A Study in Morphology
by Bibliotaph
Summary: Asta follows her older brother into Dauntless after the mysterious disappearance of their father. She's determined to get to the bottom of a mystery involving runes and lab rats, but when Dauntless leader Eric decides to make her life hell, she begins to question if she can even get through initiation. She does, after all, have an aptitude for Erudite.
1. Chapter 1 - The Disappearance of Dad

**Some information on the story you're about to read:**

 **I've completely eliminated Tris and her entire year of initiates from the story. The war hasn't taken place. Both of these cuts were necessary for the story I envisioned to take place. Don't worry though - Eric is still an absolute ass.**

 **The story is rated T for language. Those pesky Dauntless love to swear!**

 **Disclaimer: The Divergent Trilogy is not owned by me, and nor are any characters you recognize.**

* * *

What I'm about to do will probably lead to my untimely death.

"You know what you have to do, Asta," my mom mutters quietly, clasping my sweaty hand in her own. We walk on towards The Hub, herded along by the crowd. "It's the right decision- I know it is! You'll be fine."

I feel my anger rising as she tried to convince herself. We've spent the entire night talking this over in the privacy of our kitchen. There's no need to bring it into the open like this.

"Stop it, mom!" I hiss, "What if someone hears you?" She stiffens next to me and I feel bad for scolding her. She's obviously not well. I look around me to see if anyone heard her; they all appear blissfully ignorant. Families dressed in blue finery, their voices laced with false cheer. They all know that it might be the last time they are gathered.

I feel my mom slow down next to me, and I stop to link my arm through hers to support her. She looks so fragile. A year ago, her hair was sparkling red and her back was long and straight. Now she's crumbling. Her mane is rapidly graying, leaving her looking like a spindly, elderly woman rather than the 45 year old scientist she is.

Today is Choosing Day.

* * *

It all began when my dad didn't come home from work.

Back then my brother still lived with us. We spent our nights reading to each other in the living room and helped each other study for tests. Mom and dad worked at the labs. Dad was terrible at leaving his work at work and often brought home an armful of files to read in his study at night. Mom was worried. We didn't know what his current project entailed, but we knew it was important, so we didn't disturb him. Towards the end, he went through an entire month's coffee rations in eight nights. He came home so late we rarely saw him; we only heard him shuffle about in his study. I would sometimes lean against the wall, listening to him. He paced a lot.

Then one day, he didn't come home. Mom waited up for him and was still sitting in the kitchen when Nathan and I woke up the next morning. We were getting worried. She stopped by his lab at work that day but couldn't find him.

When he still wasn't there the next morning I refused to go to school and locked myself inside my room. What if the Factionless had taken him? Had he been killed? Abducted? I spent the day on my windowsill, eyes trained on the pavement in front of our apartment building in hope of seeing him come trudging with another load of files. He never did.

We went to the Dauntless department in Erudite that night to report him missing. We were received by an overly pierced man with a bad attitude who was none too enthused to talk to us. We explained that we hadn't seen dad for a couple of days and would like to send out a search party. The Dauntless man just leaned back in his seat, kicking his feet onto the table, and asked when we'd last seen him. The trouble was that none of us were sure. He'd been coming and going without us knowing for a while. The man rolled his eyes and asked condescendingly if we'd brought any photos of him, and mom handed him the worn one from her wallet with a shaking hand. He cast one look at it and stowed it away in his desk drawer.

"We'll keep in touch, but mind you, it'll probably take a while," he droned before gesturing to the door. Nathan was about to turn around, his clenched fist tattling on his intentions, and I grabbed his arm and shook my head. It was an extremely bad idea to get into fisticuffs with a Dauntless soldier.

They never got in touch. We returned five times during the next month, but each time they fed us the same vague lines about how going through their records took time. Eventually they told us that they couldn't find him, after which we gave up on them.

That night I heard mom crying herself to sleep through the walls to my parents' bedroom. She stayed in there for two days, not even coming out to eat. I tried bringing her food and water, but she had changed. It was as if someone had turned her off, leaving her unmoving and mute. For once her brain stood completely still, locked and centered on dad.

When she finally returned to us she was a ghost of herself. I once watched an old movie with Nathan that had undead creatures, zombies, in it. I spent half the movie behind the couch so that I could duck out of view when it became too scary. Mom was walking like them now, her movements stiff and clumsy. It spooked me so much that I grabbed Nathan's hand under the breakfast table. She joined us and mechanically poured coffee into a mug, not uttering a word.

"Mom?" Nathan broke the uncomfortable silence. "It's good to have you back." He offered her a smile which she didn't see. Nathan didn't give up though. "Mom, you remember what day it is, right?" She looked up vacantly now, staring past Nathan. "We're being tested today, mom."

I'd nearly forgotten the stupid aptitude tests. I knew already that Nathan wouldn't stay in Erudite. He was too wild to stay. He went on jogs. Who in Erudite does that?

No, Nathan would go to Dauntless, and he would fit in perfectly. Still, I wanted to be selfish and tell him to stay here with mom and I. It had only been a week since dad went missing, and while Mom was a complete nutter I didn't know how I'd stay sane without Nathan. Life as we'd known it for the past sixteen years was changing. We could either try to adapt, which would probably be the smart thing to do, or work against the change. Neither of us had ever been able to stand by idly as decisions were made on our behalf. We were a stubborn bunch, and mom was probably remembering that right then. I watched her eyes focus and imagined her clever mind click into gear for the first time in days, whirring and spinning like a fine piece of clockwork.

"Asta, we're out of coffee," she stated absently, "would you mind asking the next-doors if we can borrow some?"

I nodded and left. Of course they wouldn't give us coffee. Mom knew that. Coffee was more treasured than any other commodity in Erudite where minds needed to perform around the clock. I knew that she and Nathan would discuss his choice of faction, even though it was strictly forbidden. I wasn't about to object. Instead I walked up and down the street, letting them plot in peace. When I came back they were quietly drinking their coffee, pretending that they hadn't just broken one of the most important rules in our society. Meanwhile my head was about to burst with questions, but I knew I couldn't ask about anything. Only one thing consoled me - mom had the appearance of a woman with a plan.

* * *

Visitor's Day was terrible and wonderful at the same time. Nathan had gained muscle and sported a nice, big shiner which he let mom touch gingerly.

"Are you sure it doesn't hurt?" She asked, her voice small but curious. I don't think she'd ever seen a black eye before. She was slowly returning to her old self, but she'd become more closed to the world. We now communicated mostly in monosyllables. This was the most I'd heard her say in days.

"Absolutely, can't feel a thing," he lied easily. I saw him wince briefly. He was also absently cradling his left ribs when he thought I wasn't watching. I let my eyes trail around the massive hole that The Pit really was, filled to the brim with smiling, crying, and chatting people. The echo of the room was building up to a pounding headache.

"Hey, Asta, are you okay?" Nathan suddenly asked.

"What? Oh, yeah, sure, I've just got a bit of a headache," I dismissed, trying to smile. Just then a toddler squealed loudly, making my temples throb. "Actually, would you mind terribly if I went for a walk?"

"Sure," he shrugged. "The dining hall is over there if you're hungry," he pointed out a ragged hole in the wall and I nodded, rising from my seat.

I decided against the dining hall, instead heading for a nearby tunnel. As soon as I entered it my head started feeling better. It was slightly cooler and quieter in here and I let my forehead rest against the wall for a moment. The entire place was weird. I didn't know how Nathan managed to stay sane in this dark, cold place.

Mom had gone to find a bathroom when I came back. Nathan wasted no time as he grabbed my starched blue sleeve and pulled me off to the side of the room. I yanked it away when he stalled. "Stop dragging me!"

"Listen to me now, Asta, this is important." His voice was low and grave, and instantly I stilled.

"I don't know what happened to dad, but I intend to find out. The best ranking initiates here get first pick of jobs, and I have to get access to the control room. I don't know if you've noticed, but the entire city is riddled with security cameras," He talked fast, only stopping to gesture with his eyes to a small, red light in a dark corner. I hadn't noticed it at all. I didn't know we were being watched, either. It gave me the shivers. I hoped they hadn't caught our conversation. They couldn't with all that noise, could they?

"Is that what you and mum talked about when I was out that morning?" I interrupted, and he nodded curtly.

"I've been thinking a lot about what happened," he continued, speaking faster and lower, "and I think that dad might have been involved in something. I need your help. I need you to go home and-" he stopped talking as his eyes locked onto someone. I followed his gaze to a huge, intimidating man coming our way, his hard eyes trained on us. He couldn't have been much older than Nathan, yet still seemed infinitely more dangerous.

"Initiate," he greeted Nathan, who stood ramrod straight. His voice fit his appearance.

"Eric," Nathan greeted back, not looking comfortable at all under his scrutiny.

Eric shifted his icy glare to me. I wanted to slump to the floor and crawl away into the forest of legs, but I remained standing, meeting his eyes. I felt sorry for Nathan for having to deal with him on a daily basis. "You must be the sister," He said, no traceable pleasantness in his words. "Asta, I believe."

I nodded. "How do you like Dauntless, Asta?" He gestured to the walls surrounding us, lifting a pierced eyebrow.

I had trouble finding my voice, and when I finally located it, it was low and scratchy. "Is it always this loud?"

He measured me for a few heartbeats, the corners of his mouth pulling ever so slightly in humour, before answering, "No. This is a quiet day."

"I'll leave you to finish your little chat." He then turned around and left without further notice, and we stood dumbstruck for a moment before Nathan deemed him out of earshot.

"Don't mind him," Nathan consoled. "He's a complete asshole."

"I see they taught you some new words, dear," my mom suddenly said. None of us had noticed her coming up behind us and Nathan jumped comically at her appearance.

"Judging by your eye they taught you not to duck, too," I remarked dryly, coaxing a laugh from both of them. It felt nice to hear mom laugh again.

The walk home with mom that afternoon was, if possible, more quiet than I was used to. My conversation with Nathan kept replaying inside my mind. What did he think dad had done? How could I help him find out? Deciding that dad's study was the best place to start my research, I was only left with one burning question.

How much did mom know?

* * *

 **This is my first _serious_ attempt at fanfiction since my teenage years. Did you love it, or did you find it lacking? Don't hesitate to tell me! I'll try to incorporate feedback in my writing as well as I can.  
**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2 - A Thief in the Night

**Disclaimer: The Divergent Trilogy is not owned by me, and nor are any characters you recognize.**

* * *

That night I snuck down the hallway like a burglar with one goal in mind. I needed to get into dad's study. 3 AM seemed like the perfect time.

The day after we'd reported his absence mom had locked the door. When I asked her why she told me that she wanted to make sure nothing was disturbed while he was gone, as if he'd just briefly went on a business trip to another faction and would be home soon to continue his work.

She'd thought she was sneaky when she hid the key. Fortunately for me she only had one "sneaky" hiding spot in the entire apartment. She'd also hidden our birthday presents, sweets and confiscated noisy toys there when we were little. Therefore I'd discovered the loose floorboard ages ago and had no trouble fishing out the key.

My heart was thudding loudly when I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

An shiver, cold and excited, began at the tips of my toes and coursed like an electric current through my body, ending in the very tips of my hair, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The pale moonlight revealed what looked like a normal office after the detonation of a small bomb. Stacks of paper had at some point riddled every surface, but most of them had now tumbled over, leaving a chaos of scribbles across the floor. Many sported circular coffee stains and hasty notes in my dad's spidery hand. I tip toed across the floor, inching past crumbled paper towers to get to his desk by the wall. It was littered with yellow sticky notes covered in indecipherable scribbles and coffee cups he'd abducted from the kitchen. In a small clearing in the middle sat a near-empty glass phial with some clear liquid in it. I uncapped it and gave it a cautious sniff, but couldn't smell anything. I didn't dare do anything else to it in case it was dangerous.

As I put it down I discovered that it had been standing on a dusty, yellow manila folder. Nothing was written on it. It looked completely untouched, so I picked it up to examine it. It was light and barely contained anything. A few sheets of smooth paper was all. I flipped it to examine the other side and noticed a scribble in the bottom corner. It was smudged and vaguely resembled a P. It seemed familiar. What did it signify? Priority? Index?

Shrugging to myself, I pulled out the contents.

I only just managed to scan the big, red "CONFIDENTIAL" stamp off the first page before I heard mum cough and rise from her bed. I hurriedly stuffed the contents back inside the folder, which I put back where I found it. Then I edged back through the masses of paper and left the room, locked the door and rushed into the living room where I deposited the key in the hole in the floor. I'd only just slid the floorboard back in place with my foot when my mom shuffled through the doorway. She stopped in her groggy stupor and scowled at me.

"Why are you up at this hour?" she asked, suspicious.

"I was just getting a drink," I shrugged, faking grogginess.

She sighed heavily. "Go back to bed, Asta, you have school in the morning." She stroked my cheek gently before going into the kitchen.

"Sure, mom. Goodnight," I yawned before heading off to my bedroom. Mom mumbled something unintelligible back. I heard her turn on the coffee maker before I shut my door and leaned heavily against it.

Dad was smuggling out confidential files when he disappeared. Judging by the lack of Dauntless soldiers stomping around in our apartment, no one had found them missing. Yet. Therefore that couldn't be why he'd been taken.

I was certain he'd been abducted. I had yet to find out by whom, but I saw no other logical reason why he would suddenly stop coming home. The phial and the the manila folder was an important clue. Maybe there were more of their kind in the office among the skyscrapers of paperwork?

As I was crawling into my cold bed I decided to go back again tomorrow night.

* * *

The following night I made sure that mom was fast asleep before tip toeing to the loose floorboard. Wiggling it out of place and lifting it away I plunged my hand into the dark hiding space, only to find nothing. Frowning I ran my fingers along the bottom of the hole in a scanning motion. Still all I found was a couple of dust bunnies and a fat spider which scurried away upon being fondled.

I sat down clumsily as my chest constricted with panic. Mom had obviously moved the key to a new location. She must have figured me out yesterday.

I felt very defeated when I dragged myself back to my room. I drifted back to sleep wondering why mom was so determined to keep me out of the study, and if she knew about its contents.

* * *

I searched for the key at night for the next few months with no luck. Mom had clearly improved her hiding game. I even tried picking the lock twice but discovered that I couldn't pick a lock if my life depended on it.

Mom hadn't mentioned the study since the night I broke in, and I didn't know if she was angry with me for doing so. She seemed more quiet lately and had begun working extra hours at the lab. While it left me with more time to hone my lock picking skills I was concerned for her wellbeing.

Then, one afternoon late in March, I finally succeeded. Mom was still at work when I came home from school, and I decided to try again. I tumbled backwards in surprise from my crouched position at the door when the lock clicked. Nudging it open with my foot as I got up, I looked inside. Everything was as I left it all those months ago. I stepped inside and scanned the room.

When I had trouble falling asleep at night I would think about what to look for should I ever unlock the door again. I'd decided that anything marked with the bright red stamp I'd seen on the papers in the folder was of importance. It would be very easy to spot as well. Looking around the room now, though, revealed no red stamps. Only dusty, yellowing paper. I picked up a random piece of paper from near my feet and quickly scanned it. It looked like a billing order for lab equipment. Letting it slip from my hand I approached the desk again, deciding to have a closer look at the manila folder. However, as I lifted the phial under which it lay I noticed that it seemed lighter. Upon inspection I found the phial open and completely empty. Had I left it uncapped, leaving the contents to evaporate? I must have, though I could've sworn I closed it.

Just as I set it down and picked up the folder I heard mom's keys jingling in the stairway. Panicking, I stuffed the folder up the back of my shirt, securing it in the lining of my pants, before hurrying outside and closing the door.

It hit me then that I had no time to attempt to lock the door again. It had taken me months just to learn how to open it with steel wire and a comb. Closing it would have to do for now. I could sneak in later with the empty folder and make it look like it had been there all along. I ran quietly to my room and hastily stuffed the folder behind my tall bookcase before grabbing the nearest book and settling into the windowsill, looking busy.

I'd only just opened it when mom called out from the hallway. "Asta, I'm home! I brought back dinner from the cafeteria!"

"Coming, mom," I called back, my voice hitching slightly with stress. I had just put the book down when something on the cover caught my attention. I had originally borrowed it at the Erudite library a few months ago for a school assignment and forgotten all about giving it back. Now I was glad I hadn't. On the front of the book was a squiggly line of symbols that snaked from one side of the cover to the other. Runes.

That's why the smudged P seemed familiar! It had been right in front of me the past few months!

"Asta! Come on, it's getting cold!" mom then shouted from the kitchen, and I threw the book on top of my bed. I had some reading to get through that night.

XXX

The contents of the folder sprouted more questions than they answered.

I spent most of the night trying to decipher the meaning of the three documents from the manila folder. One was an invoice for ten phials of something they had produced at dad's department. It had cost 560 points per phial, making it extremely pricey. Was that what had been on the desk? What was so important that someone would spend that many point on a mere ten phials, and who had bought them? There was no indication of the client's identity, and the contents were not described. It was therefore a dead end.

The next page appeared to be part of a report describing effects on test subjects. It looked like someone had photocopied a photocopy of the original report, effectively resulting in very blurry and nearly unreadable text. Dad had already filled in many of the missing letters with a pencil in order to read it, but he hadn't been very thorough, many of them still nearly unreadable. From what I could gather, the authors had experienced increased muscle activity in a number of rats, as well as lower activity in the amygdala and increased activity in the hypothalamus. I was too tired to remember the functions of either brain region and knew I didn't have any books on it, so I decided to investigate it further at the library tomorrow.

The last page looked like the front of a report, maybe the same one as the previous sheet came from. This, too, appeared to be photocopied, and someone had censored its abstract with black marker. The title, however, was uncensored and only slightly damaged from the copying.

 _Projcct Bcrscr._

 _Advar tagcs ar d shortcomir gs._

At first I was baffled. The first word would be project, but I didn't know what the rest meant. However, if all the e's had turned into c's during the bad copying, then…

Uncapping a pen I set to reconstruct the broken letters. If the c's had once been e's, and the weird r's had been n's, then it would say _'Project Berser. Advantages and shortcomings'_.

It was a strange project title. I had never encountered the word _'Berser'_ before and rubbed my eyes, hoping that the word would change. It didn't.

The wonky P made a reappearance below the title, scribbled in red ink, and I retrieved the rune book from my bed. A glance at my bedside clock informed me that I was fast approaching 1:30 in the morning. Tiredly leafing through the book without even looking at the index, I stumbled upon what looked like alphabets. There were numerous of them lined up on several pages, their captions stating their age.

My eyes dropped to a very familiar symbol in the beginning of an early Danish runic alphabet. _Thurisaz_. It looked like a triangular flag on half-mast. Below it, in tiny text, was written ' _Translation: Giant. Thorn. Chaos._ '

I had a very bad feeling about this.

* * *

 **I wrote this during my thesis, and being the master of procrastination that I am, I found several new hobbies. One of these was runes. I thought that it would be really cool to be able to read and write in runes. It proved useful around Christmas, since it allowed me to leave my shopping lists lying around in plain sight.  
**

 **Each rune is a letter as well as a symbol. For instance, Thurisaz covers a 'th'-sound, as well as symbolizing giant, thorn and chaos. If you want to look further into it I use the 1100 AD. Futhark, as well as a couple of Danish-Germanic runes from ca. 500 AD. to fill in the gaps in the alphabet.**

 **Thank you for reading! I'll appreciate any and all reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3 - Very Red Hands

**Disclaimer: The Divergent Trilogy is not owned by me, and nor are any characters you recognize. Asta is my own.**

* * *

"Are you nervous about your aptitude test tomorrow?" Mom asked tentatively over breakfast the following morning. She was buttering her bread as though it had personally offended her, and I knew to step carefully around her today.

"To be honest," I said while pouring milk into my bowl of oats, "I'd nearly forgotten all about it."

"Is that so?"

"Mmhumm." I nodded while swallowing a spoonful of my breakfast.

Narrowing her eyes she suddenly put her toast and knife down, "What have you been doing in your father's study?" Her tone was dangerous, like the hiss of a snake about to attack.

I inhaled a bit of oatmeal in surprise and started coughing violently. "No- _hack_ -thing, _harck_ , wha- _hark_ , what makes you think- _hark hark harck_!" I spluttered, trying my best to breathe and lie at the same time. It wasn't working.

"You forgot to lock the door, Asta!"

The world stood still for a moment. Only one word was crawling slowly across my mind: _'Fu-uck!'_

"I told you not to go in there! God, Asta, how could you be so stupid?!" She yelled, her eyes wide, and I shrunk back in my chair. Mom never yelled. It was completely unexpected, and as I struggled to find my words I felt tears prickle at my eyes.

"Mom, I couldn't-" I paused to clear my throat again, "I couldn't help it. I was so curious, and you told me I couldn't go in there, and it got the better of me and- and I-" my breath hitched and to my dismay the tears started falling. "I didn't know what else to do!" I sobbed. Suddenly the entire weight of dad's disappearance crashed down on me. The loss of not just my dad, but also of the mom I knew. My brother's transfer. It felt like the world would swallow me whole for a moment, and I completely dissolved in tears.

"Asta-"

"And I-I want to find dad so badly, and I thought that if I tried to find out what happened then maybe Nathan could-"

"Asta, calm down!" mom said calmly, placing a hand on my shoulder. It effectively shut me up.

"There was a reason why I told you to stay out. It was a stupid, stupid thing you did, but what's done is done."

She rested her face in her palms briefly, as if gathering strength for the following conversation. Then she looked up at me again, her brown eyes seeing through me. "What have you found in his study, Asta?" she then asked. "I know you've been in there at least twice now."

I felt my palms grow sweaty. Should I lie to her? I could keep my findings to myself, continue to investigate on my own, but I decided against it. I was fast approaching a dead end already, and it felt more appropriate to stay united in our search for dad. "I found an empty phial and a bunch of documents. They were in the yellow folder on his desk," I started, shifting uncomfortably in my chair. I couldn't quite place her expression.

"Did you read them?" she asked. I swallowed and nodded slowly.

"Did you understand what they said?"

"Not at first. They were hard to decipher," I explain, grabbing my bowl and spoon to give my sweaty hands something to do. "There was an invoice for a product dad's team had probably developed, and part of a report on the physical changes in lab rats. I think they called it _'Project Berser'_." She grew paler by the second as I spoke.

"Project Berser?" she repeated, blinking rapidly.

"According to the report title," I nodded, stirring my oats idly.

"Please show me." It wasn't a question.

I took her to my room and retrieved the folder and my notes from behind the bookcase. I showed her the runic alphabet I'd found in my book on European history and the reconstructed title page. Then I turned to her, expecting her to react. However, she said nothing. She just stared at the material in front of her with a calculating look in her eyes. Finally she looked at me.

"This can't leave your room," she stated in a grave voice.

"But I-"

" _Am I clear_?" she interrupted sharply, and I shut up and nodded, knowing that the battle was lost. I already regretted telling her the truth. "None of this leaves your room, not even the library book. We'll have to pay for it. I can't run the risk of anyone but the two of us seeing it."

She then proceeded to pack it all up and return it to its hiding place behind the bookcase. I watched in angry astonishment. Just like that my research had been commandeered.

"Go finish your breakfast, you need to leave for school soon. It's your last day," she then said, her expression softening slightly.

I had no desire to eat and instead emptied my soggy oats into the bin before packing my bag and leaving without saying goodbye. Four months. I had spent four whole months obtaining this knowledge, and it had been completely pointless. It hadn't helped dad one bit. If only I could show it to Nathan, then maybe we could get closer to the truth. Nathan had always had a different outlook on things than I.

One thing was certain, though. I couldn't trust mom to help me.

* * *

"I'm home!" I called out as I closed the front door with my foot. I was exhausted after the aptitude test and couldn't even get my damned coat buttons to cooperate as I struggled to get it off.

"Hi Asta," she answered, clearly distracted. It sounded like her voice came from my room. I ripped off the offending garment, buttons flying right and left, and rushed to the back of the apartment with my book bag sailing after me. She was sitting in the middle of my floor, papers strewn around her like a halo. As soon as she saw me she rose from her position looking slightly guilty.

"What are you doing in my room?" I asked somewhat harshly. She shouldn't be in there. In Erudite we valued and respected privacy, especially when it came to research. Laying claim to a new discovery would be impossible if the research behind it was open to the public. Secrets were a human right. I felt deeply violated.

"Let's have a cup of coffee," she offered and set off towards the kitchen, completely ignoring my question. I clenched my teeth and followed her, not at all in the mood for her cryptic behaviour. She started rummaging through the cupboard for our coffee things.

"I borrowed some books at the library," I offered through my teeth, trying to get her to talk, "I just had enough time before my aptitude test."

Her eyes widened at the last bit, and it was obvious that she'd already forgotten all about it. "Really? How did it go?"

"You know I'm not allowed to talk about it," I told her. We shared a tense silence as she poured the steaming coffee into two identical mugs.

"I think it's high time you heard what I told Nathan last year," She offered me a mug and puttered to the dining table. Interest piqued, I sat down with her.

"Nathan had an aptitude for Dauntless." she began. As if I didn't know.

"Your brother was so angry. He wanted to get back at Dauntless for their lack of action, and he refused to sit back and trust authority. When he told me about his results I was frankly relieved. Him staying here would have ended horribly," she sighed before sipping at her coffee.

"I supported him fully. Joining Dauntless would give him the chance to investigate their records, to see if they told the truth about the investigation. Furthermore he would be a lot safer there, far away from suspecting eyes."

"Mom, what are you not telling me? Are they suspecting us for dad's disappearance?" I asked, growing uncomfortable.

"No, Asta, you misunderstand. Nathan wanted to start investigating on his own, and I knew that sooner or later he would slip and say or do something stupid. You know how temperamental he can be."

It made sense. Nathan had never fit into the Erudite mold, and he never would. He would toss books across the room if he had trouble understanding their contents. Homework had as a result thereof always been rather exciting. The kitchen wall still sported a hefty dent after the Pythagorean incident a few years ago.

However, there was something about the way she worded the sentence. It was laced with hidden knowledge. "Who, then, would be the suspecting eyes?"

"I can't tell you. It's better if you don't know."

"Don't pull that on me, mom, I'm already involved. I learned enough from his documents to know that whatever he was working on was secret. That means that whoever orchestrated it doesn't want anyone else to see it-"

"Which is why I hoped you'd received anything but Erudite in your test!" She interrupted in a shout. She sighed heavily and buried her face in her hands again. "I know there's little chance of it. I'm afraid you're as Erudite as they come, my darling girl. Fortunately you're bright, and you know your way around our faction. You'll just have to be extremely cautious if you choose to continue your pursuit here, and I'll help you, of course I will."

I hated to admit it, but she was right. She'd figured me out. I wasn't Dauntless like Nathan. I was Erudite. _As Erudite as they come..._

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, and as always I greatly appreciate feedback of all kinds.  
**


	4. Chapter 4 - Leap of Stupidity

**Disclaimer: The Divergent Trilogy doesn't belong to me, nor do any of the characters you recognize. Asta is of my own making.**

* * *

They call my name.

I squeeze mom's hand a final time before standing on shaking legs and moving towards the dais. She wished me good luck and smiles encouragingly at me. It leaves me with a burning sensation in my chest, and I can't smile back.

My gaze is locked on the five bowls. The water in the Erudite bowl is already tinted pink with blood. They placed the bowl next to the coals for added contrast, but as more blood spills, the contrast is lessened significantly. It's an important decision I'm about to make. Once my blood hits the surface my fate is sealed. It's a good thing I've thought it through.

I accept the small knife with a shaking hand and press the edge lightly against my palm. There's no need to make a large cut and bleed everywhere like the dim Amity girl before me. I nick the soft skin between my thumb and index finger and hiss as a drop of blood forms, slowly growing in size until it's big enough for gravity to take it.

I watch it roll off my hand and hear the sizzle as it hits the coals.

* * *

"I'm not sure staying in Erudite is right for me," I told her slowly, and I winced internally as her face fell.

"What do you mean?"

"Well… I played with the thought of joining Nathan in Dauntless-"

"Don't be foolish. You'll get killed."

"Gee. Thanks for the confidence, mom."

"I'm serious, Asta. Their initiation is tough! If you knew what Nathan told me, you wouldn't think twice about joining them!" She said, and continued, "Why not Amity or Abnegation? You would be safe there as well?"

"Dauntless is the optimal faction to choose. You said it yourself - I'm not subjected to the same scrutiny there as I would be here, and I'll have access to the security system. Besides, I'll have Nathan. I'm sure he'll be able to help me." My voice was small but steady. What I didn't tell her was that I wanted to avoid having my work commandeered again.

"But you don't have the aptitude for it. They'll figure you out!"

"There are no rules against it. I'm free to choose whatever faction I want."

"It's positively the most _idiotic_ decision you've ever made!" She raised her voice now, trying to scare me into submission. "I won't let you throw away your life like that! What about your plans?"

"Fuck my plans," I spat, crossing my arms across my chest. The expletive felt weird in my mouth, and it shocked mom enough to shut her up for a second, allowing me to continue. "They've gone haywire anyway. Any plans for a normal life are futile until I've figured out what happened to dad."

"And what about me?" She then said, her voice suddenly so incredibly fragile that I forgot how to breathe. "What will become of me once you're gone? You know, you didn't just lose your dad. I lost my best friend."

"Mom, I-"

"Then Nathan left. Now you will, too." She was scratching absently at her hand, worrying the freckled skin until it turned red. I stretched across the table and grasped both her hands in mine to stop her. We sat like that for awhile, unmoving and silent.

"Fine," I finally said, looking straight into her eyes. "I'll consider it."

* * *

I'm Dauntless.

My new faction erupts with shouts of shrill glee and foot stomping and I join them with wobbly knees. I did it. Large hands pat my back as a seat is cleared for me to take. This isn't the way I'd have been greeted had I stayed in Erudite. The entire row would have shifted one spot to the left in a calm and orderly manner, and I would have politely shaken the hand of the one next to me. This is far more exciting. They greet me like a long lost friend or the victor of a battle and I find myself smiling despite the raging sea of emotions inside me.

I betrayed mom.

I look to her, expecting her to explode in tears or furious words. She's doing neither. Instead she's silently crumpled in on herself, shocked and grieving. I want to cry at the sight. I want to shout across the roar of the crowd that I'm sorry, but I can't. I have to sit down with the rest of the new initiates and so I lose sight of her.

An hour later the last girl, a short blonde from Candor, goes to Amity and concludes the choosing ceremony. A shiver runs through my body as we rise from our seats and walk for the doors as the first faction. I look back over my shoulder and find my mom. She's wrapped her arms around herself and doesn't look my way. I fight the last desperate urge to run to her and hug her one last time, and tell myself firmly that I'm doing this for her. I'm getting dad back. I turn away and pass through the doors.

With a roar of excitement the Dauntless around me begin running down the stairs. I hear yelling from the front of the crowd and see two Dauntless members leading the new initiates. I begin a hesitant jog down the stairs. I suddenly remember the sight of Nathan as he ran with them. He managed to make it look so natural. Then again, he'd spent the past few years running every morning. I don't think I'd been physically active since I frequented the playground. Unlike me he actually belongs in the faction he chose. Suddenly I feel nerves gnawing on my insides. What if mom was right and I can't do it?

We're exiting the Hub now and the people in the front increase their pace from a normal run to a flat sprint. I try to keep up but my fitted pants restrict my movements, making me stumble. I silently curse myself for not considering the amount of physical activity the Dauntless engage in when dressing this morning. I fall back into step and increase my speed, wincing when I hear my pants rip and feel a cold breeze along the outside of my thigh.

After a while we come to a halt at the train tracks, and I soon find out why as the Dauntless members begin scaling the structure. I've often watched my Dauntless classmates play around on the walls of the buildings close to the school and wondered how they do it without killing themselves. I guess I'm about to find out. I spot a free pillar and take a deep breath before firmly grabbing onto a protruding bit of metal at head height. Planting my foot on a shelf in the structure I pull myself up until my other foot finds support.

I don't know how they make it look so easy. I'm using all the strength in my skinny arms and legs to lift myself up, and I'm only halfway when the last Dauntless born scurries past me on the other side of the pillar. "You've gotta hurry, Erudite, or you're gonna miss it," he laughs before disappearing onto the platform above us.

I realize he's talking about the train and speed up, never looking down. My muscles are groaning and I'm panting heavily when I finally reach the ledge and pull myself up with great difficulty. I don't even have time to stop and breathe before the train appears and people start running along it. The Dauntless-born seem to disappear through the open doors in a matter of seconds. My lungs are burning as I take off in a sprint, but I'm slow and tired. The end of the train is fast approaching and I need to get on. I watch how the Candor-clad initiate in front of me throws himself onto an external handle. I mimic him, clasping onto the last handle and clumsily find the small step below with my foot. I don't have enough strength left to pull myself inside instantly, so I hang on the best I can. Meanwhile the momentum of the Candor boy's jump and the motion of the train twists him around and prevents his feet from finding any footing. His eyes are wide with panic as he makes eye contact with me, and just as I'm about to shout to the initiates in the train to help him he loses his grip and falls.

I let out a horrified cry and look away, not wanting to witness his death. I can't avoid the sound though, a terrified scream being cut off by the pavement. I let out a sob before finding my last strength and hoist myself into the train on my stomach. I greedily accept the hand that is offered to me on the other side of the door. Once I'm inside I sit back against the side of the car and try to control my breathing.

The girl attached to the hand is small and blonde and dressed in red, and her large, water-colored eyes are trained on me. "Are you okay?" She asks, her voice breathy.

"I think so, yeah. Thanks for the help," I croak, willing the memory of the boy away. "My name is Asta," I reach out a hand for her to take, and she shakes it firmly, smiling brightly at me.

"I'm Myrtille," she replies, and I'm reminded that all Amity people have strange names. They're always inspired by fruits and animals. I think there was a girl named Strawberry in my school year. "It's a stupid name," she then comments, "I get that look all the time. My parents are herbalists, and Myrtille is latin for my mom's favourite berry." She sighs dramatically and blows a stray strand of hair out of her face. "I wish I had a normal name like Daisy or Pea."

Despite my rather depressing start as a Dauntless initiate I find myself giggling.

"I actually prefer Myrtille to those. You could always shorten it to My or Tilly, you know, to make it easier to pronounce?"

She brightens at the suggestion. "Thank you! That's not a bad idea!" She's quiet for a moment before she speaks again. "Asta is a nice name though, I like the way it rolls off the tongue. _As-tah_ ," she says slowly, pronouncing it as if she's tasting the syllables. I take an instant liking to her.

Feeling significantly better I relax and enjoy the rocking motion of the old train. I've always wanted to ride the trains but never been brave enough to get onto one. Until now, that is. In the span of an hour I've defied my mom, raced down the street, climbed three stories and jumped onto a moving train. I've also never felt so alive before. I know from books that adrenaline is a powerful motivator, but I've never truly experienced it before today. I fiddle with the tear in my pants and try to quell the large grin spreading across my face. It's exhilarating.

The other initiates around us are chatting quietly. Two Candor girls in matching white shirts are huddled together in the corner, probably grieving the boy who fell. I've seen all of them in school before, but I didn't have many friends there. I mostly stuck to myself, seeking comfort in books, or pestered Nathan while he was still around.

"How many transfers do you think there are this year?" I ask Myrtille. She shrugs. "I don't know, fifteen? I guess we'll see when we get off the train."

It hits me then that we're expected to jump, like the Dauntless-born usually do it. I've watched them multiple times with a mixture of terror and admiration as they dive from the vehicle onto the raw gravel in front of the school. I never thought I'd do it, and suddenly I struggle to remember how they landed. I don't want to break anything.

Just then I hear a muffled yell from another part of the train, followed by what sounds like war cries. "I think we've arrived," I tell her before rising to my feet.

I stick my head out the open door, making sure to hold firmly onto the inside handle. This can't be right. The train tracks are elevated more than 50 feet above street level and buildings are zooming past us. I thought we'd be jumping off at ground level, like they do at school. A large, flat roof now opens up a few feet from the tracks, and I gasp as blurs of black fly from the train doors, tumbling onto the roof.

"It's a leap of faith," Myrtille laughs as she backs up against the far wall. I don't know about that. It seems more like a leap of stupidity. "See you on the flip side!"

Before I know it she runs past me and leaps off the train. I stare wide eyed as she lands on the rooftop. I shake my head in disbelief. I can't do this. I'll never reach the. Images of the Candor boy leap to the front of my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut to repel them. More and more initiates disappear through the doorways, and before I know it I'm the only one left. I feel panic rising in my chest.

 _'I have to jump, or I'll be factionless'_ , I remind myself. I try to silence my doubts while backing up against the distant wall. I take a few sharp breaths, steeling myself.

Then I run.

I fly off the train, momentarily weightless, and land in a graceless heap on the pebbled roof. Relief surges through me. I made it! I notice that the skin on my palms stings and inspect the broken skin, wincing. I wipe my hands in my ruined pants and look around me. I feel the blood drain from my head when I discover that I'm sitting right next to a low wall separating me from a fifty-foot drop.

I rise on shaking legs and find Myrtille in the crowd. "Nice jump," She grins, and I smile meekly at her. "Hey, I'm sorry I didn't wait for you-"

"Don't worry about it," I dismiss. I'm not about to hold her responsible for my success here. I just got a taste of what hesitation brings in this faction. It's not one I'd like to try again.

"Initiates! Gather round!" A voice booms nearby. It belongs to a dark-skinned man who looks the same age as my mom. We all approach him and wordlessly arrange ourselves in a semicircle around him. "My name is Max. I'm one of the leaders of your new faction."

"You're standing on top of the Dauntless compound," he says before lithely jumping onto the small ledge that marks the edge of the roof. "The entrance is down there, several stories below us-" he points into the abyss.

A Candor boy with a pointy face peers over the edge before he interrupts Max. "There are no stairs! How do we get down there?"

Max' brow furrows in annoyance and he drawls, "If you'd let me talk you'd know by now." He jumps off the wall and stands in front of the boy. "In fact, it's very simple." He smiles in a predatory way, his canines catching the light. A feeling of unease creeps into my veins like ice. This doesn't bode well. Max confirms my prediction when he grabs the front of the boy's black coat with both hands and lifts him up as if he didn't weigh a thing.

"You have to… jump," he grins, before throwing the boy into the abyss. His scream bounces off the walls for what seems like an eternity before it's cut off, leaving chilling silence in its wake.

My mind is reeling with shock as I force it into motion, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Max, a leader, threw an initiate over the side of a building just for being mouthy. The question is whether he's dead, or if there's something at the bottom to catch him. I glance over the side of the wall. The space between the buildings stretches down into an old courtyard with a large section of the concrete removed, forming a giant hole. The bottom is completely void of light, and I can't see what's at the bottom. I know that initiation is dangerous in Dauntless. I've already seen the death of one initiate, and we haven't even made it through the first day. Yet I have trouble imagining that they would personally kill disobedient teenagers. There wouldn't be any initiates left by the end of the first week. While I have no doubts that Max is every bit as lethal as he seems, I don't believe that he would kill an initiate just to make an example.

I come to the conclusion that the jump is safe if he asks us to follow the boy. No faction is stupid enough to send all their initiates to their death on the first day. It's probably a bluff.

"As you can see," Max says, his voice level again, "getting down is not the difficult part. If you truly are Dauntless you won't have any problem getting over that ledge, either." He gestures to the low wall with his hand. "Who's next?"

 _'Alright. According to my logic the jump should be safe'_ I tell myself. However, I feel nauseous at the mere thought of stepping onto the wall. I don't want to do this. Around me I hear shuffling of feet and nervous coughing. No one volunteers.

"Did I stutter?" Max asks, "Who. Is. _Next_?"

I also don't want to be the last to jump again.

"I am," I croak. My voice sounds distant in my ears and I curse myself for speaking. My legs move mechanically to where Max stands, and I clumsily hoist myself onto the wall, facing away from the crowd. My entire body is shaking despite knowing that this won't kill me. _'This is not safe!'_ the voice of reason screams at me in protest, _'Get down from there!'_

 _'Shut up,'_ I tell it, _'my logic is sound.'_ Nathan might even be waiting at the bottom. I imagine his smiling face as I push from the ledge and fall.

It feels like I fall for hours, cold spring air rushing past me and chilling my leg through my ripped pants. The gray sky hastily grows smaller as I descend. I am engulfed in darkness.

Then the wind is knocked from my lungs in a painful blow as I collide with something springy. It throws me a few feet back into the air, and soon I come to a halt. I look down to see a large net extending below me. _'I was right!'_ , I tell myself victoriously, and fresh air streams into my lungs as soon as I start to relax. I could definitely get used to the thrilling chase of adrenaline. I lie there for a moment, smiling up at the sky. Then my world is flipped as someone tugs on the net, and I roll towards the edge and plummet to the ground. A large hand extends down to me, and I allow it to help me to my feet.

"Right," a man drawls, "so did _you_ jump of your own free will, or were you pushed like Craig over there?" I know that voice. I've heard it before. I raise my eyes and find the bored face of Eric. A tremor runs through me as I recall my first encounter with him. He's no less intimidating now than he was a year ago. If it's even possible, I think he's grown even bigger.

"I did," I say, trying to sound confident.

"Name?" He drones, looking down at his clipboard and obviously wanting to be somewhere else.

"Asta," I answer automatically and watch his gray eyes widen with interest. He didn't remember me before. Now he definitely does. I cringe inwardly. I should have given him a fake name.

" _Real_ first jumper, Asta," he then shouts to the room, and I hear the roar of a crowd from the shadows. As my eyes get used to the darkness I see Dauntless members surrounding the net, whooping and grinning at the show. I can't see Nathan anywhere. I smile shyly at them and tug a loose curl behind my ear, and Eric points me to where Craig the Candor boy stands.

"Hi, I'm Asta," I tell him as I extend my hand for him to shake. He doesn't take it, but instead scowls at me and crosses his arms defiantly across his chest.

"Fuck off," he mutters gruffly, and I scowl back at him before turning to watch the net. Soon a blur of red comes flying from the sky. Myrtille's giggling uncontrollably, high on adrenaline as Eric pulls her out of the net. When he asks for her name she pauses for a moment before identifying herself as Tilly. She then gleefully bounces over to Craig and I to another roar from the crowd.

"I can't believe it! How did you find the courage to jump first?" She squeals, and I shrug.

"It wasn't that bad. I guessed there was something at the bottom," I confess, and out of the corner of my eye I catch Craig rolling his eyes.

"Hey, what happened to your pants?" We both look down in silence, taking in the sorry sight. The once sky-blue material is smeared with dirt and blood, and a large tear in the side displays my pale and bruising thigh.

"Dauntless happened," I sigh.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! What did you love? What didn't you? Don't be afraid to tell me, and I'll try to incorporate your feedback.  
**


	5. Chapter 5 - Ye Who Enter Here

**As we make it into the Dauntless compound, I think you should know that I use an ungodly mix of features from the books as well as the films. The Eric I use is based on Jai Courtney's appearance in the movies, for instance, while the layout of the compound and their technology is closer to the books (I find it _highly_ unrealistic that the tech is so advanced. I mean, come on. They don't even have roads in most of the city, but somehow manage to get their hands on alien-league guns? _Please_ ). For the same reason I also extended the initiation period from three weeks to nearly two months, the first stage lasting an entire month as building muscle takes time. I could go into lengths with this, but you get the gist.**

 **Now, on with the story!**

 **Disclaimer: The Divergent Trilogy does not belong to me, nor do any of the characters you recognize. Asta is all mine, though.**

* * *

Out of the 32 initiates there are thirteen transfers in total. Seven are from Candor, one from Amity, four from Erudite and one from Abnegation. Six of the Candor are huddled in a group of their own, waiting for the seventh to drop into the net. The two girls I saw earlier on the train are conversing quietly with Craig, occasionally glancing at me when they think I'm not looking. I try to ignore them, sternly reminding myself that it's not my fault that Craig was humiliated.

All the Erudites have made it down safely. I know all three of them, I realize. Amelia Fox, now just called Fox, lived on the same floor as I did back in Erudite. Her new nickname suits her. She's a sly girl with pretty, strawberry blonde hair. We used to study together, her intellect shining through in every assignment. Why she chose Dauntless beats two boys, Elias and David, have been joined at the hip since they met as children and never go anywhere without each other. I'm not surprised they joined the same faction. David is currently poking fun at Elias for choosing the worst nickname in history.

"Imagine introducing yourself to someone high ranking!" He laughs, " _Hello, my name is Elias, also known as Alias_ ," he distorts his voice to make it snivelling and high pitched. It sounds horribly annoying.

"Shut up, it's a cool name!" Elias- no, _Alias_ defends. I chuckle quietly. It does _not_ sound cool. It literally means "also known as". No Erudite born will ever let him live this down, myself included. I'm suddenly rather glad I gave them my own name.

The last Candor finally drops through the hole in the ceiling with a roar. His name is Otto, he informs Eric, and our spectators salute us with one last round of shouts, whoops and fist pumping before loudly taking off through a nearby tunnel. Nathan isn't one of them, I note sadly.

"Alright, follow us!" A tall, authoritative girl with silver eyebrow piercings shouts. Eric joins her at the front of the group and we enter the same tunnel I saw our welcome committee disappear into before. It's sparsely lit with blue lanterns that leave large pits of darkness in between, and I feel Tilly grab the hem of my coat. We walk in silence for a while before the girl motions for us to stop at an intersection.

"This is where you part," Eric informs us. "Lauren will take those of you who are Dauntless-born to your sleeping quarters, as you don't need a tour of the facility. The rest of you will wait here with me."

More than half of our group moves to join Lauren, disappearing into the shadows of another tunnel. We're left with Eric. He's quietly inspecting his wristwatch while we stand by, expecting him to say something. Then we hear footsteps from one of the tunnels, and a young man appears from the shadow. He's tall, with dark hair and thick eyebrows. Eric scowls at him.

"Fucking _finally_!" He growls, "What took you so long? This is _not_ my job, Four!"

"None of your concern," the man replies with equal amounts of loathing in his voice. "I'm here now, aren't I?"

I watch Eric fight the comeback that's burning on the tip of his tongue. He succeeds, instead stalking past Four and intentionally bumping hard into his shoulder. "Whatever. Have _fun_ ," I hear him hiss before he, too, disappears into the shadows, leaving Four with us.

He takes a moment to compose himself before addressing us. "Follow me," he simply instructs before walking the opposite way of Eric. We pass through another tunnel and enter the only space in Dauntless I'm familiar with. The light today is much more unforgiving than the warm sunshine that lit it the last time I was here. It casts the cavern in a cruel, gray light that emphasizes the jagged edges and cracks in the walls, making it look more like a mountainside than a home. It occurs to me that Eric wasn't joking when he said that it was usually more noisy in here. The voices of a hundred excited Dauntless are bouncing off the walls.

"This is the Pit," Four explains, turning around to face us. Seeing the flabbergasted faces of the initiates he smirks. "It might take some time, but you'll learn to like it."

I doubt it. The underground chill of Dauntless is already seeping into me. I hope we'll get warm clothes.

"My name is Four," he continues, pausing for a moment to glare at Craig who's opened his mouth, no doubt to ask a question. Craig doesn't get the hint.

"What kind of name is that?"

"The kind that gets to decide how many push-ups you'll do tomorrow," Four sneers coldly, "so I'd advise you to keep your mouth shut if you want full functionality of those arms of yours after I'm done with you."

"Normally I work in the control room, but for the next few weeks I'll be your instructor," he informs us, his voice level again. I decide that Four isn't one to piss off, yet still find myself relieved that he will be training us instead of Eric.

He shows us the Chasm next, and I stare with fascination at the underground river. There's something wild and feral about the way the water tears through the rock, unstoppable and frothing. The chaotic noise of the Pit drowns in the uniform roar of the water, and I close my eyes for a moment, enjoying the sound.

"A fair warning," Four then shouts, "a jump from here will end your life. Let serve as a reminder that there is a fine line between bravery and stupidity." I wonder briefly just how many have explored that line.

We're led to what Nathan pointed out as the Dining Hall all that time ago. It's larger than I expected and warmly lit. I hear the clinking of cutlery from inside and a delicious smell meets me. My stomach growls loudly. I was too nervous to eat breakfast this morning. Tilly snickers next to me, mouthing " _hungry?_ " at me. I nod vigorously.

As soon as we enter, however, every seated Dauntless rises in wild applause. It'll take some time to get used to how loud they are. Tilly seems to fit right in. She smiles widely and walks inside, dragging me after her by the hand. I want to tear free and find my brother but allow her to steer me out of hunger. I can look for him when we're done eating. Our group finds a nearly empty table in in the back of the room and I gracelessly slump down on the bench between Tilly and Fox.

"Hey," I greet Fox, and she smiles at me in that slightly enigmatic way of hers. If I wasn't used to it I'd feel uncomfortable. I however know she's busy weighing her words before she speaks.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Asta," she finally says, and I smile at her. Neither did I, to be honest. "I could say the same, Fox," I tell her, and this time she rewards me with a true smile. Tilly laughs loudly next to me, and I turn to see what's so funny only to lock eyes with her. I look at her inquisitively.

"Are all Erudite so formal when they chat?" she asks, still giggling.

"Well… it depends," I say, shifting in my seat. "Tilly, this is Fox," I introduce in attempt to avoid answering the question, "she lived down the hall from me back in Erudite."

Fox extends a hand for Tilly to shake. Tilly is all smiles. I wonder if she's always this cheerful.

"Have you known each other for long, then?" Tilly asks, and we both nod. "Since we were five," I reply. Tilly then sighs, for the first time looking slightly defeated, "I wish I knew someone here," she mutters. I bump her shoulder with mine and smile at her, "You know me, Tilly," I remind her. "And now you know Fox, too. You'll be alright." Fox attempts to smile encouragingly, but it comes off looking rather constipated. I can't help the snort that escapes me. Maybe Tilly can teach her how to smile properly.

A platter of food reaches our end of the table and I accept a plain hamburger. I get the impression that the Dauntless aren't the biggest fans of vegetables. Food in Erudite was seen as fuel for the body and mind and therefore consisted mostly of grains, fresh and canned vegetables, and lean meat. Occasionally we would treat ourselves to soda water, but I didn't like it much. It was too sweet for my taste.

I mimic one of the Candor boys, who obviously knows what he's doing, and dress the burger with different sauces before taking a bite.

 _Yuck_.

It's not the taste of it that disturbs me as much as the slightly squishy and lukewarm consistency. I miss salad already.

I eat my burger in silence and try not to appear disgusted, drinking from my metal mug every so often to give myself a break. Tilly isn't as good at concealing her contempt. I know that the Amity diet is very similar to Erudite with the exception that all of their vegetables are fresh.

I sit back in my seat and look around me. I've always loved people-watching. Body language can reveal much about a person that you'd never know just from talking to them. I watch Alias and David bicker on the other side of the table and wonder how David can be so oblivious to the raging crush Alias has on him. I hope he'll be able to return his feelings once he realizes. Maybe he's already seen the signs and just ignores them?

Further down the table I catch the two Candor girls whispering again. I find it uncharacteristic that they don't just step up to me and tell me that they dislike me. It's bordering on cowardice to back-talk people like that. Fox sees me observing them and lean closer to quietly mutter, "They think it's your fault that Craig was put in such a bad light."

"I guessed as much," I agree, "I won't let it affect me. They can talk about me all they want." Fox nods and returns to her burger. I'm glad I'm on Fox's good side. She can be downright vicious when she dislikes someone.

Movement draws my eyes to the end of the table where Four stands from his seat. He doesn't say goodbye before he leaves, but doesn't get far either as he's met by Eric at the entrance to the Pit. Shivers run down my back. I prefer to be as far away from that man as possible. I don't know why, but something about him is deeply unsettling. They talk for a while before Four disappears through the opening. To my horror Eric walks the opposite way, aiming directly at our table. I try to look as invisible as possible.

"Well, well, who have we here?" The words freeze me to the spot. All conversation dies around us. "Imagine my shock when you fell into the net, _Asta_ ," I hate the way he draws my name out. I don't want any more attention than absolutely necessary. Attention will ruin my chances to get into their security system to find dad. I doubt they'll let me stay if they find out why I'm really here. I can feel the eyes of the entire table focused on me.

"Shoo, blondie," Eric waves his hand at Tilly and she quickly slides to the left, leaving an empty space between us which Eric soon occupies. He sits so close that I can feel the heat from his body seep into my clothes. I shudder involuntarily.

"Your mother must be absolutely crushed," he says conversationally, leaning across the table to grab an empty mug and filling it with water from the pitcher, "to have not only one, but both of her children defect to Dauntless. Especially now that she's all by herself."

Meanwhile my mind is running amok. He knows about my dad. If I assume him to be even the slightest intelligent then what he just told me could be considered a threat. Panic freezes me to the spot. I can't allow them to find out what Nathan and I are up to. I only see one possible way to save the situation, and it has the possibility of ending very, very badly for me.

"I don't see how that's relevant to you," I retort. I can hear Tilly inhale sharply on the other side of Eric and don't want to look at him.

"I'm sorry?" He says, obviously not believing his ears. I decide to try this bravery-thing out and turn to watch his face. His eyes are narrowed in disbelief. He clearly thought I'd just give in and let him bully me in front of everyone.

"I-I said," I say, my voice quivering slightly. Oh no, that won't do. Summoning every tiny bit of courage I own, I lock eyes with him, "I said that I don't see how my mother's well being is relevant to you." I take a sip from my mug, trying to appear nonchalant despite the cold fear that's gripping my stomach. I keep looking at him, not willing to back down. It gives me the chance to study his face. I search for all the telltale signs of rage; twitching lips, furrowed eyebrows, bulging veins. I just don't find any. His face is completely void of emotion. He just looks at me, measuring me.

To my complete surprise his face breaks into a wide, mirthless grin. "Boy, am I gonna have fun with you!" he mutters, leaning slightly towards me. Somehow I find myself wishing that he had yelled at me, or pushed me out of my seat, or knocked over my cup. That would have made him human. This quiet, sinister behavior is scaring me like nothing I've ever experienced.

This man is lethal. My rational mind is screaming for me to run, but I silence it like I did on the roof. Showing him weakness now will surely get me killed.

With a huff of amusement he rises from the bench and leaves me to deal with my tattered nerves. He tells our table to follow him, and we do so in silence. I scan the dining hall for Nathan on my way out but don't see him. I can't shake the disappointment that settles in my chest. Why hasn't he come to see me?

I snap out of my thoughts when Tilly grabs my sleeve, slowing me down until we're in the back of our group and out of Eric's earshot.

"What _on earth_ was that?" She half-whispers.

"I don't know," I tell her. I honestly don't.

"Who is that man? Do you know him?"

"Yes. No. Sort of," I answer flatly, trying to detangle my thoughts. They're whirling around in my head, making everything fuzzy and difficult to comprehend. "His name is Eric. My brother, Nathan, transferred to Dauntless last year. Eric came and spoke to him while my mom and I visited. I think he might have been his instructor."

"Ouch. Poor Nathan," Tilly sighs, and I nod in agreement. "That guy is the definition of scary."

"You could say that twice."

I look around us, trying to figure out where in the compound we are. There are no windows in the hallways and the blue lamps are few and far inbetween. I notice that Tilly is still holding onto my sleeve. Is she scared of the dark?

We take another turn left and stop in the middle of the hallway. I rise to my toes and see a wooden door behind Eric.

"My name is Eric," he states, "and I'm one of five leaders of the Dauntless. We take initiation very seriously here, which is why I will be overseeing your training."

My heart sinks. _I'm dead_.

* * *

 **Eric is a nasty dude. I just happen to really _like_ bad guys.**

 **This chapter is also un-betaed, which means that it might stand to be heavily revised at some point. If you stumble across any mistakes please tell me so I can correct them! You would have my eternal gratitude!**

 **Finally, I don't know when I'll have time to post the next chapter. I like to have at least two extra chapters in the back of my hand should I suddenly not have time to write, and as it is I'm reaching the end of that rope. This means that I need to do some more writing before I can post chapter six.**

 **Thanks for reading, and I always appreciate reviews! They warm my heart like nothing else!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Restless

**Hi everyone! This one is slightly shorter than the previous two chapters due to the Curse of the Master's Thesis.**

 **Disclaimer: The Divergent Trilogy is not mine, and nor are any of the characters you recognize. Asta and Tilly are mine though. All mine.**

* * *

"Hah! She is so screwed," I hear someone whisper crudely. Although the poorly lit hallway makes it impossible to distinguish faces I'm willing to bet everything that Craig is the messenger. The boy has no filter whatsoever.

"We have few rules here," Eric raises his voice, indicating that he heard Craig but doesn't care. "You have to be in the training room every day at eight o'clock. If we don't see your face at eight, it's either because you've chosen to be factionless or because you're in the infirmary getting patched up."

It's a bit drastic, throwing out initiates just because of tardiness. I shouldn't have a problem with meeting on time, though. I'm an early riser, used to squeezing in a bit of extra studying before school. Tilly however looks pale at the threat. I make a mental note of waking her in the morning.

"Training is from eight to six, with a break at noon for lunch. After six you're free to do whatever you want. Bear in mind that you're only allowed to leave the compound accompanied by a Dauntless."

He turns and opens the door, stepping inside without a word. We follow him into the dormitory on the other side. Metal frame beds poke out from the walls, creating an aisle in the middle which leads to another door.

"This is where you'll sleep during your initiation."

"Why are there only twelve beds?" someone in front of me asks.

"We anticipated that fewer of you would make it this far," he shrugs. "There's always at least one transfer who doesn't make the trip. Anyway, I'll have someone bring down an extra mattress. I think the first jumper should have the honor of choosing who gets to sleep on the floor tonight."

We don't swear in Erudite. Curses are for people with insufficient vocabulary skills. Still I stand here, with every eye in the room trained on me, and wish I had the guts to say "fuck you, Eric". I knew already that what I said in the Dining Hall would have repercussions, and here they are. Either he's taunting me in front of everyone, or it's a test to see what I'm made of.

The obvious choice is to give the mattress to Craig. It would put him in place and display dominance. It would also feel really good in a petty, spiteful kind of way.

Do I want to deal with the consequences, though? It will without a doubt fuel the hatred between us, possibly leading to more initiates disliking me. Can I afford to be hated here? I'll need every ounce of help I can get to get through initiation as it is, and making enemies on the first day seems overly counter-productive.

"I'll take it," I say, and the moment the words leave my lips I regret them. Eric lift his eyebrows and blink slowly, as if trying to decide if he should trust his ears or not. It tells me one thing - that was the weak choice. I couldn't have been less dauntless if I tried. I prepare myself for the taunting speech about how I should have chosen Abnegation instead of Dauntless since I am so selfless. I can almost hear him already.

It never comes.

"Suit yourself," Eric just shrugs before he turns to leave.

* * *

I can't fall asleep. The mattress is thin and I can feel the cold from the concrete floor creep through it. The Abnegation boy, Matthew, approached me afterwards and offered to take it, but I kindly declined, decided to stick to my choice. Now I kind of regret it. My teeth are forcefully clenched to avoid them from clattering, and I wonder if I will ever feel warm again or if I'm doomed to freeze for the remainder of my life. Judging by the events of the day that might not be such a long time.

When I close my eyes I can still hear the desperate scream of the Candor boy as he fell from the train. I have a feeling it will haunt me for a long time. I keep imagining his broken body on the asphalt even though I never saw it. It could easily have been me. Had I jumped any later from the train than I did there would have been enough beds. It's not a nice thought.

Here in the darkness my thoughts seem to catch up with me. Doubt settles in the pit of my stomach like a heavy rock. Maybe mom was right. Maybe the aptitude test was, too. What if I'm not brave enough for Dauntless? What will I do then? I won't do much good if I'm dead or Factionless.

I'm the only one still awake. My mattress is squeezed in between the beds that Tilly and Fox claimed, and both are breathing gently. I wish I could talk to them. I can feel loneliness stirring inside me, making my eyes burn. I know the sensation well, as well as what it entails.

Before I can start crying I get up from the mattress and pull on my shoes, careful not to make any noise. I didn't change into the black T-shirt and pants they gave us, instead going to bed in my tattered suit. I must look absolutely ridiculous.

I sneak into the hallway, closing the door softly behind me. Eric said nothing about not being allowed to explore inside the compound. I walk silently through the hallways for a while, keeping an eye out for the small red lights on the surveillance cameras. I don't want them to see what I'm about to do.

Finally I find a dark, blind spot by a drinking fountain and sit down on the floor next to it. Reaching around me I stick a hand up my shirt to find the edge of my pants. The manila folder has been digging into my back all day and it's a relief to finally be able to remove it. Inside it are the original contents as well as a few pages on runes from the library books. I tore them out, figuring that I wouldn't have to return them. Mom doesn't know I have it with me. I wonder if she'll be very angry when she discovers its absence. I picture her disapproving face, knowing it by heart. The tell-tale furrow between her brows deep and her eyes narrowed with fury are almost a welcome thought here in the dark, cold corridor.

The loneliness stirs again, and I steer my thoughts away from mom. They won't lead anywhere nice. Instead I look around for possible hiding spots for the folder. I couldn't conceal it beneath my mattress as I'd hoped, since I might not be there when the frame arrives and they move the mattress. I searched the adjoining bathroom for hiding spots as well, but found none.

I look around me, searching for holes in the rock walls and or furniture to hide the folder beneath, but there are none. The only object is the water fountain, a crude pillar of plate steel. If it didn't reflect the blue light from the lanterns I wouldn't be able to see it in the darkness. It must be hollow, I realize, and slide my hands down the sides of it. Two of the surfaces are smooth, but the third has what feels like a door at the bottom. I can only just make it out in the sparse light. A single, loose screw keeps it closed, and I make quick work of it with my thumb nail. The door swings open and I carefully reach inside until I feel a cold metal pipe. There is plenty of room inside for the folder, provided that it's dry. When I reach down to feel the floor my hand bumps against something soft and I pull it back with a squeak. What if it was a rat?

I scold myself for being squeamish and reach inside again. The thing is in the same spot as before, and when I reach around it I can feel hard edges. Curiosity awoken I pull it out for examination.

It's a pack of cigarettes. Looks like someone is smoking in secret. I stifle a giggle and reach back inside. It's dry, so I can hide the folder here. It can't stay here forever, though. I don't want the secret smoker to find it.

When I finally return to the dormitory it's past three in the morning and I'm aching for sleep. This time it comes swiftly.

* * *

The sound of hushed voices wakes me from my sleep. It feels like I only just went to bed. I squint at the clock above the bathroom door, and it tells me that I have an hour to wash, dress, and eat before practice begins. I just want to go back to sleep.

After a very cold shower I'm somewhat more awake and wearing my new Dauntless clothes. The first thing I notice is that they're… snug. I can see the outline of my ribs through the shirt. Being slender came naturally in Erudite with the diet we kept. I expect it to be my biggest disadvantage here, along with my lack of natural bravery. The second thing I notice is the thinness of the material. It's stretchy and slightly rough to the touch, and provides close to zero insulation against the cold.

"Ready for breakfast?" Tilly asks, and I shake my head.

"Not quite. I need to secure my hair. I don't want it in my eyes when we train."

"Let me help," she offers and pats the spot next to her on her bed. I sit down obediently with my back turned to her, and she starts tugging at my curls.

"There's so much of it! How do you manage your hair?" she asks, and I shrug.

"I don't. It's always been a complete bird nest."

After a bit of tugging and frustrated noises she asks if I have a hair tie, and I hand her the elastic that held my hair in place yesterday.

"All done," she grins, and I reach up to feel what she's done. A thick braid fastens my hair to my scalp before it runs into a tight ponytail. "Thanks, Tilly!"

"Let's get some breakfast! I'm starving!" she exclaims, and I wholeheartedly agree. I hope they have coffee in Dauntless.

We're joined by Fox, Alias and David outside the dormitory. None of them are awake enough to maintain a conversation, so we walk in companionable silence until we enter the Pit. Despite being significantly more quiet than yesterday, the thunderous noise of the cavern still smacks me hard across the face and I suppress a hiss of pain. We enter the Dining Hall, and Fox wordlessly points us to a free table nearby.

I'm on my way there when I'm tackled from behind and have the wind is knocked out of me. My attacker and I stumble to the ground, and I fight to turn around, groaning.

Then I see who it is, and a huge smile blooms on my face. "Nathan!"

* * *

 **Hooray! Enter Nathan!** **If I had a big brother, I'd want him to be like Nathan.**

 **As always this chapter is un-beta'd, and I am eternally grateful for feedback. Really, I am. It makes my heart go all bubbly and warm.**


	7. Chapter 7 - Taking Aim

**I've received feedback from my Beta. She's an absolute darling! As soon as I can find the time I'll edit the posted chapters for errors. I'll also post some more information on my take on the Divergent world in the first chapter, as my storyline is a _tiny_ bit different than the original story (heavy use of sarcasm here).**

 **Disclaimer: As always, the Divergent Trilogy is not mine, and nor are any of the characters you recognize from it. Asta, Tilly, and the gang are mine, though.**

* * *

"Hey," He grins before de-tangling his limbs from mine and getting up. "Sorry for tackling you, I thought you'd see me."

I get back on my feet and dust myself off with my hands. Looking him up and down I can see how he knocked me over so easily. The lean, spectacled teenager I knew is long gone. In his stead is a tall mountain of muscle. I blink rapidly, not quite trusting my eyes. My brother was a geek. His red hair and freckles didn't help him at all. Now he's sort of… handsome?

"Look at you!" I gesture to him, lost for words. "What on earth did they feed you?"

He just shakes his head at me. "I'm glad to see you, too!"

"Where were you yesterday when I arrived?"

"I had the night shift in the control room," he explains. _So he got the job_. I briefly wonder if he's found out anything yet. "But I followed your group on the screen, first jumper."

"Is that a significant thing here? Being the first jumper?" I ask as I adjust my hair, and he nods furiously.

"You have no idea."

I open my mouth to ask why, but he cuts me off. "Go eat breakfast, Asta. You've a long day ahead of you. I'm glad I caught you." He embraces me quickly, filling me with a sense of warmth for the first time since I arrived. "You might want to tone down the questions," he whispers into my ear, "the walls have ears here. Let's meet after dinner in the pit." I nod against him and then he's gone.

I go and join my new friends at the table they picked.

"I don't get it," Tilly says over a mouthful of egg. "How do you know everyone?"

I chuckle at the thought. Tilly probably has more friends back in Amity than the rest of us combined with her outgoing personality. "That's my brother," I tell her, and she coughs violently, spraying egg all over Alias.

"Shit," Alias exclaims while brushing food off his clothes, "that was Nathan?"

I nod while patting Tilly on the back. "Dauntless has been good to him" Fox adds, and I groan.

"I'm too tired to deal with this. Is there any coffee?" I whine, and to my great relief David pours me a mug. I add milk and take a long, grateful sip. Sweet mother of all that's good.

"I don't know how you can drink that," Tilly scowls at my mug. "It smells putrid."

"It smells like heaven on earth," I correct her, taking another hearty sip before offering the mug to her. "Wanna taste?"

"No way!" She scrunches up her nose in disgust. "I miss apple juice," she then sighs. I load a plate with bacon, eggs and slices of dark bread. I much prefer Dauntless' selection of breakfast to the dinner here, although I miss my oats.

We're eating in silence when Four stops by our table. "We gather in the pit in five minutes. Finish up."

Soon we're gathered around Four outside the dining hall, only marginally more awake than when we arrived. "I'll show you the way to the training rooms. From now on you're expected to meet there at eight, so take note of the route."

We follow him obediently. On the way there we pass the drinking fountain I hid the papers in, and I send a quiet prayer to whatever deity is available that they're still there. Eventually the walls plan out and we're taken through a set of double doors that lead into a vast space. It looks like an old factory building and has rows of slanted skylights in the ceiling. Punching bags hang from a low crossbeam nearby, and on the far end is a large door marked "Shooting range". Eric is standing in the middle of the room, arms behind his back, waiting. Four silently walks to his side, and the rest of us congregate around them.

"There are three stages of Dauntless initiation," Eric informs, cutting straight to the chase. "The first is the longest at four weeks and mainly consists of physical training. We train Dauntless-born and transfers separately in the first stage. This does not mean that you will be ranked separately- yes?"

One of the quieter Candor girls, Mary, has raised her hand. "Why are we ranked?" She asks hesitantly.

"You are thirty-two initiates in total. We only need the top twenty," he shrugs. Gasps travel through the crowd, and I feel my stomach turn to ice. Eric continues as if nothing happened. "The top ranking initiates also get first choice of the available jobs. By the end of stage one the bottom four are cut out. The last eight are cut after stage three."

"What do you mean, cut out?" Alias cries, and I can see Eric smirk slightly, a malicious gleam in his cold eyes. It sends a nervous shiver through me. To act that indifferent is either just that, an act, which is horrible enough on its own, or a sign that he's been through this before and truly doesn't care, which is even more unnerving.

"I mean that they'll leave Dauntless." Only now I notice how hard Four is trying not to look uncomfortable. Someone to my right is sniffing, and I discover it to be Tilly. Her face is streaked with frustrated tears, and I can tell she's fighting to hold them back. "It means they'll be factionless."

I don't pay attention while he explains the mechanics of initiation. Instead I try to figure out if Eric is truly as sadistic as he seems, or if it's another power demonstration like the one we saw on the roof. I've never seen anyone, not even in Erudite, with enough control of their body language to feign that kind of cruel behaviour, which is why it must be real. The thought alone chills me to the bone.

"If there are no more questions we'll proceed. Today we will teach you two things; how to shoot a gun, and how to fight."

* * *

After receiving a brief introduction to firearms we're standing in a line by the back wall in the shooting range. The gun Four gave me is cold and heavy in my hand. It feels dangerous all on its own, like it could go off at any second, and I make sure not to point it at anyone even though it's unloaded.

"Shooting is simple," Four states as he loads the gun. "It depends on two things; your aim, and your posture. Fail at one of the two and you won't hit anything."

He plants his feet firmly on the ground, shoulder width apart and the left slightly in front of the right. He rolls his shoulders before squaring them and lifting the weapon with both arms, taking aim. Then he squeezes the trigger, and a thunderclap erupts from the small gun as it fires, sending a shock through me. I look to the target a hundred feet from him and see a small hole in the centre.

"Now it's your turn," He gestures to the taped line on the floor, and we take position behind it. Piles of loaded cartridges are laid out for us to use. I pick up a cartridge and slide it into the weapon like we were taught. With a deep breath I mimic the stance Four demonstrated, nervous tension making my heart flutter. Then I raise the gun and realise that I don't know how to use the sights.

Four is busy helping Mary and I really don't want to ask Eric for help. Instead I line up again and try to make sense of the guides. I try to prepare myself before I pull the trigger but find it hard. Another gun goes off next to me, the sound hurting my ears, and I see Tilly grinning from ear to ear.

"Man, my folks would disapprove of this!" she giggles nervously, high on adrenaline. I can't help but be impressed with her when I see that she hit the outer ring of the target. Fox is the next to shoot, and being determined not to be the last again, I ready myself and hesitantly squeeze the trigger.

I'm wholly unprepared for the recoil. My arms are thrown up and back and I stumble backwards until I hit the wall behind me. I have no idea where the bullet goes. I find that I don't care, either. I'm overcome with a mixture of adrenaline and horror, too shocked to move.

I have never intentionally hurt anyone in my entire life. Now I stand with an object designed to injure and kill. I felt the kickback of the shot and can imagine how much damage that will do to the receiving end. I feel slightly nauseous at the thought and hurriedly activate the safety.

"Hey, Asta, are you okay?" Tilly asks. I exhale shakily and nod. I have to get myself together. I can't show weakness here, I remind myself.

"Y-yeah. I think I may have hit the ceiling, though."

Tilly gives me an empathic look and nods before turning back to her target. This time I watch everything she does, from the way she lowers her head to how she holds her breath right before shooting. I watch her fire four times before he interrupts.

"You won't learn how to shoot by watching others do it, freckles," he remarks dryly. I clench my teeth in frustration. Freckles. What a horrid nickname.

"It's how I'm used to learning," I inform him.

"Maybe back in Erudite. You're in Dauntless now. You can't learn from any other fuck-ups than your own," he sneers, walking around me. His voice is reduced to a low rumble. I doubt anyone else can hear him. "Take aim."

Grudgingly I do as told, adopting the same firing stance as before and lifting the gun.

"Is the safety on?" He asks, and I quickly check and nod before going back to aiming. Suddenly a sharp blow strikes my right shoulder, and I stumble back, wincing. The idiot punched me.

"Ow!" I whine, rubbing my shoulder.

"That," He points at me, "is what happens when you aren't balanced. Get back to the line." I do as told, my face hot from embarrassment. He nudges my feet further apart with his own and instructs me to bend my knees slightly. Then he moves to my arms, straightening my right elbow and bending the left slightly.

"Now, with the safety on, align the top of the front and rear sight, and for fuck's sake, use both eyes when you aim."

I huff in annoyance but find that his instructions make sense. Being balanced assures that I won't be blown backwards when I shoot, aligning the sights keeps the gun level and possible to aim, and aiming with both eyes increases my depth perception. Surprisingly, breaking the activity down to the physics behind it seems to calm me.

"When you aim, make sure the front sight touches the bottom of the bulls eye. When you feel like your aim is good, remove the safety." He says, and I nod, immersed in the task. As soon as I remove the safety I feel the nerves come creeping again, sending a slight tremor through me.

"Take a deep breath and hold it. Calm your body," he mutters, "and look at how the sight moves with your heartbeat. Squeeze the trigger when it graces the bottom of the circle."

I don't nod this time. I feel slightly hypnotized by the figure-eight pattern the sight traces. Then, when it's just below the bottom, I squeeze hard. The recoil runs through my body like a shockwave, but this time I'm prepared and remain standing, completely breathless and filled with raw emotion.

I blink back tears and focus on the target. There's a bullet hole in the top of the outer ring, and I release the breath I've been holding. I actually hit the target.

"Well, that was pathetic," Eric sneers _,_ "I don't know why I wasted my time on you." He might as well have punched me again. That _hurt._ I arrange my face in a passive expression, not willing to let him know.

He leaves me to myself and I make eye contact with Tilly.

"What on earth was that?" She whispers, and I shake my head at her. I have no idea.

"For a moment he wasn't as big an idiot as I'd made him out to be," she says.

"And then that moment passed," I add. "He's a complete sadist."

"I don't know," Fox chimes in, "I think he's kind of hot."

Tilly and I both look at her, mollified by the statement. "You're not normal," I tell her, only half-jesting.

She just shrugs and resumes shooting, leaving Tilly and I slightly shell shocked. He could look like a god for all I care. It wouldn't do anything to aid the urgent need to run far away every time he's near.

* * *

 **Thank you ever so much for reading. I'm a little overwhelmed by all the positive response I've had to this story. Thank you, guys. You're the best!**

 **I don't know when I'll have time to post the next chapter. My thesis deadline is rapidly approaching, and like Asta, I want to flee as well. Until then, have a lovely Christmas and a very happy New Year.**


	8. Chapter 8 - Shame

**Merry Christmas, and a happy new year to all of you! I hope you had a lovely leap into 2017. Personally I'm glad to leave '16 behind.**

 **I'm turning in my thesis today! This means that I'll hopefully update more often, and that my brain will start functioning normally again!**

 **Disclaimer: The Divergent Trilogy does not belong to me, nor do any characters you recognize. Asta and the gang are of my own creation.**

* * *

"My arms are about to come off," I whine as we exit the dining hall.

"I know. I think I dropped mine at the table," Tilly agrees. I flex my hands and try to get my right index finger to work again. Using a fork was a project in its own right.

We join Fox, Alias and David by the entrance to the tunnel, and Tilly receives friendly slaps to her back from both boys. "Hey there, Blondie!" David grins, putting an arm around her shoulders. Unfortunately for Tilly, Eric's nickname for her seems to have stuck. "I must say, I didn't expect that from you! You sure know how to shoot for an Amity!"

"Thanks, David," she grins sheepishly. "Now, Freckles over here is another case," he smiles impishly. I shoot him an icy glare. "I won't dignify that nickname with an answer," I say before crossing my arms.

"Asta would be a good shot if she wasn't afraid of guns," Fox states dryly, and I stop walking.

"I'm not afraid," I tell her. I don't want to be labeled as a coward on my first day here.

"Yes, you are. I don't mean this as an insult, but your reaction the first time you fired your gun spoke for itself."

"Okay. I admit I was slightly overwhelmed by it. Weren't any of you?" I reply, my voice slightly hitched. None of the others say a thing. "Do you mean to tell me that none of you felt a thing? That you held an object capable of killing everyone in the room, and didn't feel awe, or power, or terror?"

Alias finally clears his voice, "Well, sure, I guess. I have to admit that I was a bit too focused on hitting the target, though. No offense."

I look around at the four of them, not believing my ears. How could they not feel what I felt? I force myself to take a few deep breaths instead of getting riled up. Fox has always been good at this, I remind myself. She can deliver the most acidic remarks and completely dismantle a person from the inside without even knowing what she's doing.

"I guess it's something I'll have to work on, then," I sigh, deflated, and I can't help but notice the boys and Tilly looking slightly relieved as we move on, an awkward silence settling between us. I hope I didn't just scare off the few friends I have here.

* * *

"How many of you have ever been in a fight?" Four asks once we've reassembled. A significant amount of hands rise, two of them belonging to Tilly and Fox. I guess there's a reason why they transferred. As much as I'd like to raise mine to appear tougher than I am, I know It'd come back to bite me at some point.

"How many won?" Nearly all the hands go down, but to my surprise Fox keeps her hand raised. I'm starting to question how well I really know this girl. Four eyebrows lift in surprise.

"Fighting here won't be like the schoolyard brawls you know," He continues. "If you don't win the majority of your fights, you won't make it in Dauntless. The purpose of fighting is teaching your body how to react to threats and challenges. Today you will learn the most basic techniques of fighting, and tomorrow you'll be employing them in actual combat. I suggest you pay attention, or you'll be behind tomorrow."

We all watch silently as he demonstrates the different types of punches and kicks, first into the air and then against a punching bag. The first kick he lands sends the bag careening to the side, and he points at someone in the crowd.

"Craig, I believe you just volunteered to hold the bag for me?" He says, his eyebrows raised in quiet challenge. This is payback for taunting him, I think to myself as I observe Craig's reaction. Craig doesn't protest like I expected him to, but keeps his mouth shut and joins Four on the floor. I have to bite my cheek to keep from smiling. It serves him right.

"No, you'll need to press your body against it," Four insists when Craig attempts to secure the bag with straight arms. "Otherwise it'll go flying again." Craig scowls but steps closer as instructed. Four kicks the side of the bag again and Craig stumbles across the floor, fighting to hold on. My cheek is starting to hurt, but I don't really mind.

The demonstration goes on for a while, and I force myself to take note of his form, particularly his stance and the way he shift his weight from one leg to the other. I don't want to be caught off balance again. Tilly sighs lightly next to me, and I can guess why. Four is what one from Erudite would call structured. I can see his muscles tighten and stretch under his tight shirt, and even I have to admit it's mesmerizing. Then we're both pulled back into reality when Four lands a front kick on the bag, sending it into Craig's stomach. Going by the "oof" it hurt quite a bit, and a quiet snort escapes me.

"Thank you Craig, that was charitable of you," Four remarks dryly, and I make a mental note to not piss him off as my eyes follow Craig's retreating form back to our group.

"In a moment you'll have a go. The first thing you'll realize is that punching hurts. During the first week we'll be using hand wraps to get you used to the sensation. After that you'll be fighting barehanded."

He passes around a box full of the rolled up wraps before demonstrating how to put them on. I struggle with them on due to my stiff fingers, and eventually Tilly takes pity on me and helps me out. I can't seem to do anything right today. I make sure to thank her, feeling slightly guilty for my outburst before.

We find a punching bag each and I quickly confirm Four's reason for us to wear hand wraps. Every time I hit the punching bag it feels like a slap to my knuckles. I don't know how he did it.

"I think you need to keep your wrists straight," Tilly points out next to me, sending a nice jab to her bag. Why does everything come so naturally to her? It's not fair.

"Yeah, I know. I just can't get the hang of it," I huff in reply. Every punch drains a significant amount of energy, and my arms already feel like lead from shooting practice. "I don't think I have the muscle for this kind of activity."

"Did you ever do any sports in Erudite?" Tilly asks, and I shake my head as I chuckle.

"Most of us believed sports to be a waste of time. The most activity I saw was climbing the stairs to my apartment on the fifth floor."

"How odd," she says, furrowing her brow. "We climbed trees and ran a lot. Amity encourages physical activity. I think it's got something to do with endorphins and the peaceful state of mind they bring. It had the exact opposite effect on me," she grins.

"If you've got breath enough to chat you're not working hard enough," Four barks as he passes us, and we both shut up and get back to abusing our punching bags.

An hour later I'm still terrible. I'm drenched in sweat, my shoulders are in agony, and the skin on my hands feels raw and burning. I've stopped looking at Tilly all together. Her excellence only reminds me how bad I am at this.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone do so poorly on their first day."

Blood rises to my already flushed cheeks in humiliation, but I clench my teeth and keep punching. I don't have to turn around to know that Eric is standing right behind me. I don't know why he's picking so insistently on me, but I won't let him rile me up. The best I can do is ignore him and hope that he gets bored with me.

"You're too skinny to do any damage, too," He continues in a slightly amused tone, and anger burns my insides. I keep my eyes on the faded red material of the bag, imagining his face there. My next punch is significantly better than the rest and I bite back a smirk. The punching bags should come with Eric printed on them.

"I have to admit it makes me wonder why you're here." He says, slowly pacing around me with his arms on his back. I continue punching as if he isn't there, praying that he'll stop talking. "I mean, you're from Erudite. Most Erudite-transfers pick new skills up relatively quickly. You, however, might be the most incompetent initiate I have ever laid my eyes on."

The words exit his pierced mouth in an almost-whisper, slithering into my consciousness despite my effort to ignore him. My punches fall harder, my knuckles slapping against the rough material. It hurts worse than anything I've experienced, but I find the pain distracting and try to focus on the sting.

"I can't quite decide if you're stupid and if that's why you left. You don't speak much, so it's hard to say. Judging by your abysmal results here, though, you're too stupid to follow basic instructions."

The good thing is that he seems oblivious as to why I'm here. That doesn't stop his words from affecting me. I am completely hopeless at this. Sending a final punch to the bag I turn to face him. I'm gasping for breath and sweaty, but that doesn't stop me from glaring at him.

"Why do you care?" I ask him, trying to regain control of my breath.

"Who said I did?" He says, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe I just enjoy watching you fail, initiate."

If it wasn't for my sense of reason I would punch him. I think to myself that, had he been in my year at school, I might have raised my hand earlier when Four asked who'd fought before. Eric's face is just begging for a fist.

He's still staring at me when Four calls for a five minute break, reminding us to drink. I gratefully slip past Eric and grab Tilly by the arm before dragging her to the water post.

"I cannot catch a break today," I tell her under my breath while we walk. I can still feel Eric's eyes burning holes in my back.

"You shouldn't have talked back to him yesterday," She responds as we get in line to refill our water bottles.

"I know, I know. There's just something about him that sets my teeth on edge."

"Really? I almost couldn't tell!"

"It's funny, I don't recall sarcasm as an Amity trait," I say flatly, provoking a giggle from her. We get to the tap and she quickly fills her bottle before emptying it over her head and face with a gleeful squeal.

"Tilly!" I shout in surprise.

"What? It's really hot in here!" She shrugs before refilling her bottle.

She's right. When we started training after lunch our bodies were steaming in the cold air. Now the temperature is pleasant, and for the first time since I came here I'm not freezing. Maybe physical activity isn't so bad after all.

* * *

I changed my mind. I hate physical activity.

I'm lying on the cold floor gasping for air. After pairing up to practice blocking, Four had us doing interval training during the last hour of training. I was close to vomiting from exhaustion a few times but luckily managed to keep my lunch. I can only imagine the abuse I'd receive if I started hurling during training.

"Come on, Asta," Tilly groans above me. She's hunched over and rubbing out the sting in her sides. "Let's hit the showers. I'm feeling gross."

"You look kind of gross," I respond in jest, managing a half-smile. I probably don't look too great myself. I'm still sweating profusely from the interval training and my hair is sticking wetly to my neck.

"You're one to talk," She grimaces at me. Yet she still extends a hand for me to take, and I gratefully accept. I doubt I'd be able to get up by myself.

Just then Craig and his friends walk past us. They send me dirty looks as they pass, and I try my best to ignore it. None of them say a thing as they pass us. However, as soon as they think I'm out of earshot the group erupts with comments, of which most are jumbled and inaudible. The few I do hear are like a fist to my gut.

"Ew! Did you see her? She's soaked! Training wasn't even that hard."

"I know! What is she even doing here? She's hopeless."

"Michael would have done better. He was absolutely perfect for Dauntless. Why couldn't she have fallen from the train instead?"

I feel my face grow hot with anger and embarrassment. I dig my fingernails into my palms in attempt to keep my emotions under control. That's when I realize - the boy's name was Michael. I don't know why, but being able to put a name on his face sends an odd sort of ache through me. My throat is starting to burn, and I know that if I don't get out of here soon I'll start crying in front of everyone.

"Ignore them, Asta. Let's go," Tilly mutters before leading me out of the training room by the elbow. When Tilly finally finds a dark nook a bit down the hallway outside I'm so afraid to start crying that I'm holding my breath.

"Are you okay?" She asks, stroking my arm. "Asta! Say something!"

"I'm fine-" I try to say, but it comes out all squeaky, and before I can do anything else my entire body is shaking. I press my hands against my mouth in panic, but a sob manages to escape. Then I feel warm, sticky arms embrace me, and I allow her to hold me and try to mimick her slow breathing.

"Shhh," she says, "you're fine. Is it what they said? Because they don't-"

"No, it's n-not that," I manage to say, and I draw in a long, shaking breath, before releasing it just as slowly. I repeat the motion a few times before I'm back in control of my voice and draw away from her.

"I couldn't sleep last night," I explain, and Tilly nods, her large, blue eyes trained on me. "I kept thinking about the boy who fell from the train. I don't know why it affects me so much, I just-" I stop to wipe my nose in my sleeve, "I see his face every time I close my eyes. He looked so afraid."

Tilly looks at me in a way that makes my heart twinge painfully, and I avert my attention to the wall behind her. "His name was Michael, I heard them..." I say and bite my lip to stop it from quivering. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I care so much. It's not like I knew him," I croak, and she just shakes her head at me.

"There's no shame in caring, Asta."

* * *

 **I think we could all use a friend like Tilly. If any of you are wondering how I imagine her, I based her looks off Aurora Aksnes. She's a Norwegian singer and wonderfully whimsical.**

 **As always I dearly appreciate constructive feedback, so don't hesitate! The next chapter will be uploaded as soon as I get writing again!**


	9. Chapter 9 - Lost and Found

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Divergent Trilogy, nor any of the characters you recognize. Asta, Tilly and the gang are mine. All miiinee!**

* * *

After we showered I told Tilly I needed some time to myself and that I'd meet her in the dining hall. It wasn't a complete lie. I'm used to spending time with only my own thoughts as company, and the solitude of Erudite accommodated that lifestyle quite well. In Dauntless there's never a quiet moment. I'm surrounded by people when I train, when I eat, when I sleep and when I shower. It's exhausting. However, it wasn't entirely true either. I need to visit the drinking fountain and fish out the manila folder before someone else does.

I sit on my mattress on the floor, following the long arm on the clock creep towards ten minutes past dinner time, figuring that the halls should be barren by then. I ignore the growling from my stomach and rise from the floor, taking off into the hallway. I run all the way to the fountain. It's not far from our quarters, but the trip winds me nonetheless and I can feel my muscles complaining. I fight to catch my breath as I crouch by the fountain and struggle with the door. It finally releases and I plunge my hand into the darkness.

There's nothing but concrete floor.

I can't breathe. It feels like the rock walls are closing in on me, and I try my best not to panic. Not even the pack of cigarettes is in there. It's been completely emptied.

"Fuck," I hiss before I clasp a hand over my mouth. I can't afford for anyone to hear me.

The secret smoker must have found my folder. My innards freeze at the thought. What if it's someone with half a brain who can piece the information together, or even worse, someone who can trace it back to me? To mom and dad? For once my mind stills completely. I just sit there on the cold concrete, hyperventilating with blind panic.

"Come on, Asta, _think_ ," I groan, burying my hands in my hair. "I need to find it!"

I squeeze my eyes shut and stop imagining the terrible outcomes, instead trying to focus on what must have happened. When I open them again I see a red light in the dark. An idea forms, and I rise from the floor and take off towards the dining hall. I need to see Nathan.

* * *

During dinner, I learn that eating is difficult when you have a lump the size of a tennis ball lodged in your throat. Nonetheless I finish my meal on record time, hardly tasting the food. Tilly spends the entire time regarding me pensively, as if my brain will unfold before her if she stares long enough. After a while she leans in close and asks me if I'm okay.

"Yeah, don't worry," I say, trying to sound cheerful. She pulls a face that tells me she's not buying it. "It's been a really long day, and I've been absolutely horrible at everything," I sigh, trying something more believable, and this time her eyebrows rise with empathy. Even though it's not actually a lie I still feel bad for not being honest with her.

She bumps my shoulder with hers, sending me a lopsided smile. "Tomorrow will be better. I'll help you if you want."

A small bubble swells in my chest at the friendly gesture. No one but Nathan has ever offered to help me with anything. I smile and nod, actually feeling a bit better. "I'd love that. Thank you."

Just then I spy a mop of red hair out of the corner of my eye. "Err, do you mind if I go talk to my brother for a bit?" I ask her, and as her face falls I feel awful for not asking if she wants to go with me. While she's acquainted with Fox, David, and Alias, they still don't talk much to her.

"Not at all," She says, smiling unconvincingly. I squeeze her shoulder and rise from the bench.

I meet Nathan in the arch leading into the Pit and rise to my toes to hug him. He smells different than how I remember. Like winter and smoke and earth.

" _We need to speak in private_ ," I whisper into his shoulder and he nods once before leading me out into the Pit. We cross the chasm in silence, the roar of the water momentarily drowning out the voices of the Pit, and enter a tunnel leading to a staircase carved from the rock. We climb the worn steps for a while before I ask him where we're going, already out of breath.

"I'm showing you my apartment."

"You have an apartment?" I ask him in surprise, making him chuckle.

"Of course I do. Where else would I sleep?" It's a fair question, and one I hadn't given much thought. In Erudite initiates were assigned to shared rooms until they could afford to rent an apartment. A part of me didn't think Dauntless had anything as civilized as apartments, but expected him to share a dormitory with a dozen others like I do.

"Is it all yours?" I ask, feeling a little stupid.

"No, I have a roommate," He replies as he leads me down a dimly lit hallway. He stops in front of a regular wooden door saying 7D in brass letters. "He's in the dining hall right now, though."

The door swings open, and what's on the other side is far from the dormitory I sleep in. It's a boxy apartment with concrete floors, walls and ceilings, and all along the side of it runs a cushioned bench. Three wooden doors on one wall lead to what I assume are bedrooms and a bathroom. The room is sparsely furnished, and I would go as far as to call it spartan if every single surface wasn't littered with dirty clothes, dishes, magazines and whatnot.

"It's… very you," I force a smile at him. I was never invited into his room back in Erudite, but from the few glimpses I caught through the door my poor brother was and still is oblivious to the existence of trash bins and hampers. So is his roommate, apparently.

"Close the door behind you, will you?" He says, and I obey him gladly, hearing the underlying message. _Privacy_.

As soon as the room is sealed, however, his easy smile disappears and we both start speaking.

"Nathan, I need to see the security footage-"

"What the _hell_ are you doing here?!"

* * *

An uncomfortable silence settles on us before I clear my throat. "What do you mean? I thought you'd be happy to see me."

Nathan groans before sinking down on the bench, looking up at me with narrowed eyes. " _I am_ , you idiot. I mean, why are you here, in Dauntless, when you obviously don't belong here?"

"What do you me-"

"Don't play stupid on me, Asta, you know _exactly_ what I mean. You're no more Dauntless than I'm a freaking Amity. You never stopped prattling about all the research projects you'd do once you'd pass initiation in Erudite. So why are you _here_?"

For a moment his glare is so similar to the one mom used to send me when I was in deep trouble. My breath catches in my throat and I struggle to find my voice as I sit down next to him.

"Remember what you told me when we visited you last year? That you thought dad was hiding something?" I ask hesitantly, and Nathan nods, swallowing.

"Well, I broke into his study. You were right. Mom was furious when she discovered me. She ordered me not to breathe a word of it to anyone - said she was on his trail, too, and that it was too dangerous for me to know too much. We concluded that it would probably be safer for me to defect from Erudite than to stay."

"You were wrong," Nathan says thickly, and I cringe under his gaze. "I don't know how mom could be so stupid. I told her exactly what initiation here entails. She should have warned you."

"She tried," I whisper. "When I told her I wanted to join Dauntless she wasn't happy. I figured that I'd be of more help here, out of sight, than in Erudite hanging on her skirts and not being allowed a single individual thought when it came to dad. Besides, I missed you."

Nathan doesn't respond. Instead he rises from the bench and stalks across the room. I watch him with worry as his brow furrows in visible attempt to control his emotions, but it doesn't work.

"How the _fuck_ could you be so _stupid_?!" He yells at me, and I can't help cowering. Nathan rarely yells, and when he does, I usually make sure to be somewhere else. "You'll get killed here, Asta! What good will _that_ do, huh?"

I can't reply. I'm fighting back tears, clutching the hem of my shirt tightly in my fists. I feel Nathan's eyes on me, and soon I feel the cushion dip below me as he sits down again.

"Don't you get it, Asta?" He stresses, his voice threatening to break. "I can't lose you as well."

Then he exhales shakily, and it's my undoing. I start crying. Not the pretty, dignified kind of crying that some people are capable of, but the heaving, wet kind that leaves your face red and bloated. I feel Nathan's arm reach around me, and I lean into him, allowing myself to cry for the first time since dad disappeared. I cry for him, and for what happened to our family, and for Michael the Candor boy, and for myself as well. I'm not used to this kind of action in my life. I still struggle to understand how I got caught in this mess.

It takes a while, but eventually my sobs still and Nathan hands me a tissue to blow my nose with.

"Why did all of this happen to us?" I ask him thickly once I've regained control of my voice. Nathan doesn't respond, but instead squeezes my shoulder.

"Do you really think I'll die?" I then ask, my voice small and squeaky with sudden fear.

"No," Nathan shakes his head, hugging me tighter. "You won't. I won't let you." Nathan says, his tone telling me that it's not up for debate.

"Thanks," I croak and smile meekly at him, realizing just how much I missed him.

"You might want to find another hiding spot, by the way," he then says, "assuming that this is yours, I mean."

I watch with wide eyes as he pulls the manila folder from under the cushion he's sitting on. My brain must be completely soggy from all the crying, since I don't even think about asking him where he found it, or if he read the contents. Instead it makes a logical leap that makes very little sense in the current context.

"You _smoke_!"

* * *

Apparently Nathan's roommate, Zed, has a habit of bumming Nathan's cigarettes, which is why he resorted to hiding them in a water fountain. When I asked him why he didn't just hide them in their apartment, he told me that he'd tried, but that Zed had found them every single time. When I then asked him why he smoked at all, and informed him that it was a horrible habit, he told me to shut up. After a bit of glaring I remember what we were talking about.

"Did you look at the contents?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

"I haven't had the time," he says, "Zed's had a day off and has been here all day. Speaking of whom; we should hide this properly. He's bound to be back soon. I can look at it tomorrow when he's at work, and we can meet again tomorrow evening."

"Do you have any tape?" I ask him, and he nods before heading to the tea kitchen to rummage through a drawer.

"Here you go. What do you have in mind?" He asks as he hands the roll to me.

"Which room is yours?" I then ask, and he points me to the door to the far right. It leads to a small, windowless room with close to no floor space due to clutter and an enormous bed. I don't comment on it, instead making a beeline to the small dresser wedged between the end of the bed and the wall. I pull out the overstuffed bottom drawer and feel along the underside with my hands. Deciding it'll do, I bite four pieces of tape off the roll and attach the folder to the underside before closing it.

"There," I say, marching back into the living room. "I doubt he'll think to look under your underwear drawer."

Nathan laughs behind me, following me to the front door. "Erudite has lost a truly brilliant mind."

* * *

Tilly isn't there when I get back, which is odd, since Fox, David, and Alias are still chatting merrily at our table.

"Where's Tilly?" I ask them.

"I think she mentioned something about the sleeping quarters," Fox informs me before returning her attention to David who is recounting his performance at the shooting range earlier. She giggles sweetly at whatever he says, and I catch Alias roll his eyes at her.

I don't stay to watch the two compete for David's attention, even though it's bound to get entertaining. Instead I turn and leave. As I exit the dining hall I get the feeling that someone's looking at me, and I turn my head only to find Eric glaring at me from one of the tables. He doesn't look away when I catch him. It's unnerving. I shiver slightly as I break the connection and hurry across the pit.

When I reach the door to our quarters all I can hear is silence. Maybe Tilly isn't in there after all. I check the room anyway and frown when I see Tilly's small form curled up on her bed. I approach her on tip toes, afraid to wake her, but relax slightly when I see her face. Her eyes are open, and judging from the redness of them, she's been crying, too.

"Oh, Tilly," I sigh as I sit down on the edge of her bed. It takes a while before she responds.

"I miss home," she whispers, her voice raspy.

"Me too," I tell her, not knowing what else to say.

"I wish my sister was here," she croaks, and I feel even more terrible for running off with Nathan earlier.

"What is she like?"

"Her name is Fern. She has the loveliest singing voice. She stayed in Amity. We used to disagree about everything, and I guess I know why now, seeing as I'm here."

She stops to sit up and wipe her eyes in her sheets.

"When I chose Dauntless I expected to miss mom and dad the most. I never thought I'd miss arguing with Fern."

"We can share my brother, then," I tell her as I put an arm around her. "I can assure you he's very good at arguing."

Tilly releases a watery giggle, and I squeeze her shoulder. "Besides, you'll see her again in a few weeks on visitor's day."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," she sighs.

"The feeling's mutual," I grin at her, trying to relieve the sombre mood. "I'm counting on you to improve my abysmal efforts at the shooting range."

"It's so nice to feel appreciated," she drawls.

"Sarcasm suits you."

"Thanks," she giggles, and for a brief moment I have a feeling that things might be looking up.

Then I notice that my mattress is still frameless.

* * *

 **I received top marks for my thesis! It feels amazing! I swear I'm floating instead of walking.**

 **As always, thanks ever so much for reading! I hope you'll leave a comment, and if you have any questions I'll be happy to answer them!**


	10. Chapter 10 - Breaking Noses

**A/N: Hi everyone! I'm sorry it's been so long. I've been busy doing all sorts of ad hoc tasks that I didn't anticipate. I also had a short period of "everything-I-write-is-crap" mentality and spent a good amount of time going over the first few chapters. I've made changes to various bits and bobs, the majority of them in chapter 2. Fortunately I'm done with chapter 10 now and have the next few planned out and waiting to be written.**

 **I hope you enjoy it!**

 **Disclaimer: The Divergent Trilogy is not mine, and nor are any characters you recognize. Asta, Tilly and the gang are all mine, though.**

* * *

I hate the cold. I hate the concrete floors. I hate Eric.

Sleep doesn't come easily. I will my body to stop shaking so violently, but I don't remember ever feeling this cold. Every time I move against my thin covers the cold drags along my skin in a way that's almost painful. I wonder if the other initiates are as affected as I am. I don't hear any teeth clattering or erratic breathing, so I guess not.

Then again, they all have bed frames to elevate them from the freezing concrete. I _hate_ Eric.

Today was hard on all of us, and I don't look forward to getting ranked. It had never occurred to me just how dangerous joining Dauntless would be for me. I'm worried about Eric targeting me. If he decides to check the results of my aptitude test I'm in a world of trouble. I wouldn't put it past him to throw me out just because he felt like it. Cruel, spiteful man...

I doubt I'd survive long without a faction. I vividly remember the gaunt faces of the factionless living in the abandoned building down the road from our apartment. We lived in the outskirts of Erudite, and they used to come to the windows when we walked to the bus. I was so scared of them that I'd cross the road just to put as much distance between myself and them as possible. None of them were well-fed and they all looked ill. I remember thinking that death would be preferable to becoming one of them.

Right now, however, I find myself more concerned with my increasingly numb toes and fingers.

* * *

My body isn't happy with me the following morning. My joints are stiff and resist all movement, and my muscles feel like hardening concrete. I'm still half asleep as I attempt to eat my eggs. I struggle to lift my arms, and when I try, my shoulders protest loudly. As a result, my eggs keep sliding off my fork. I watch meekly as they fall for the seventh time, landing on my plate with a dull _splat_ and finally give up, instead getting David to refill my coffee mug. I somehow find the willpower to lift it to my mouth, propping my elbows against the table for support. I inhale the vapors slowly, letting the smell of coffee chase away my grogginess before I drink. I absently watch Elias and Fox bicker over the rim of the mug, and I can't help but listen in on the conversation.

"Honestly, any idiot can throw a punch," Fox claims as she points at Elias with her fork. Judging by the way he keeps opening and closing his fists by his sides he would like to demonstrate on her. Wondering why he's so annoyed with her I keep watching. "Knowing _where_ to hit is key! For instance, if I wanted to inflict a lot of pain on David, I would want to either hit his nose, temple, or cheekbone, like this-"

Fox demonstrates a punch in slow motion, letting her knuckles kiss the side of David's face. David is shaken from his sleepy stupor when she lets her hand linger on his skin for a moment before she retracts it. My eyes flit to Elias' face. It's pinched with annoyance and anger.

Ah. Now I get it. Fox is flirting with David.

"I wouldn't give away all of my secrets if I were you, Fox," David replies after a while, waggling an eyebrow playfully. He's completely clueless. "We'll begin fighting today, and you never know who you'll be pitted against-"

My elbows slide off the edge of the table and my mug hits the surface roughly, spraying coffee everywhere and nearly sending Tilly to the floor in her attempt to avoid being hit.

"We're fighting _today_? How do you know? Are you certain?" I yelp as I mop clumsily at the coffee with a napkin. To my dismay he just nods, a large grin plastered to his face.

"Positive. I heard it from Otto, who heard it from Celine, who overheard Four," David informs, obviously excited by the thought.

I don't feel remotely excited. I'm instantly nauseous as my stomach starts twisting painfully. I'm nowhere near ready to fight another human being. I'm getting bested by the punching bag as it is.

"You've gone white. Are you nervous?" Tilly whispers next to me.

"Slightly," I squeak. I've never been more nervous in my entire life. While the choosing ceremony, getting on and off the train, and jumping from the roof were all daunting tasks that had my heart hitting two hundred beats a minute, this is completely different. The impending doom of the upcoming fight feels like a death sentence. They're going to break me like a twig. I'm already fighting the urge to stick my tail between my legs and disappear.

"Let's go to the training room, I might be able to help you a little before training starts," Tilly suggests, and I nod mechanically. I rise from my seat on shaking legs and we cross the dining hall together. Craig's group has grown bolder since yesterday and this time doesn't stop talking as we pass. It doesn't matter. I can't hear their words over the drum of my heart in my ears anyway.

We walk to the training room in silence. Tilly keeps sending me concerned looks as if expecting me to disappear in a cloud of smoke if she doesn't. She's not far off - I would if I could. As we enter through the double doors my breath hitches. My palms grow sweaty at the sight of the punching bags and the memory of how humiliating yesterday was.

"You need to chill, Asta. It's probably nothing but glorified sparring," she reasons, and I nod again, nearly laughing at her accidental pun. I've been exceptionally _chilled_ ever since I entered the cold grotto that Dauntless is. She approaches the nearest punching bag and I follow her.

"You had trouble with your punches yesterday, right?"

"I had trouble with everything yesterday," I scoff. Tilly ignores my remark.

"Show me a few kicks and punches, and I'll try to help you out," she instructs patiently, and my mood softens slightly.

I hesitate, feeling very self conscious. Yesterday was a disaster. However, realizing that Tilly won't make fun of me I land a couple of jabs on the bag, wincing as my red and beaten knuckles make contact with the rough material. I'm suddenly very glad that Four made us wear wraps yesterday. I can only imagine how raw they'd be if I'd been barehanded.

"You need to keep your thumb on the outside of your fist, like this," Tilly interrupts. She shows me how to curl my thumbs below my fingers instead of inside them. "You might break it if you tuck it. Also, keep your wrists straight."

I send a few more jabs and crosses at the bag, and Tilly corrects my posture. Then, as I practice my uppercut, she tells me to tuck in my elbow. She just shakes her head at my hook. I wonder how she's so good at this.

"I can tell that something is off, but I just can't say what it is. Try kicking it."

I prepare to plant a front kick on the centre of the bag but lose my footing and stumble sideways instead, pulling a muffled snort from Tilly. I glare at her and she instantly bites down on her lips.

"Sorry," she mutters, "I didn't mean to laugh."

"It's no use, Tilly!" I exclaim, sending a weak punch at the bag. "I've got the motor skills of a toddler."

"You're not wrong," someone remarks dryly from the doorway, and my body stiffens automatically, expecting it to be Eric. We both turn to see who it is and I'm almost pleasantly surprised to see Four enter. I don't know what I would have done if I had to receive any more abuse. Four sends us a hard look before approaching us. "What are you doing?" He asks, his words laced with suspicion.

I hesitate before answering, feeling extremely self conscious in his presence. "W-we heard a rumour that we'll be fighting today, so I thought that I'd practice a bit more before we begin," I explain. He narrows his brow and measures me for a moment before nodding.

"Alright. Just remember that there is such a thing as too much training," he says, his tone clipped. Everything about him seems very measured and deliberate. The fact that he didn't waste time denying the rumour tells me that it's true. "You might want to lean back when you kick. It distributes your weight more evenly," he adds before turning around and disappearing into the equipment room.

I exchange a bewildered look with Tilly.

"That was weird," she mutters, and seconds later we hear rummaging from the storage. Four then emerges dragging a large, old fashioned blackboard on wheels behind him. I haven't seen one of those is ages, used to Erudite's affinity with advanced technology. Dauntless seems much more analogue in their approach to everyday life. If it works, why change it? Four positions the board against the far wall before returning to the equipment room.

"What's written on it?" I ask, squinting to get a clear view. It's no use. Unlike most Erudite I actually needed glasses. Unfortunately I left them on my dresser. My dresser in my old room, that is.

"Let's find out," Tilly responds before approaching, dragging me along.

The white blurs of chalk soon begin to make sense, and my heart drops painfully into my stomach. Our names are written in a neat column.

They're scoring us today.

* * *

"Today we get to see if you learned anything yesterday," Four tells the group when we're gathered. "We've matched each of you with two random initiates. The schedule's on the blackboard."

He flips the thing over, revealing two rows of names and a timestamp. Excited and scared murmurs travel through our small group as we absorb the information. I'll be fighting Otto, the last jumper, at ten o'clock, and David at half eleven. I dig my nails into my palms in attempt to quell my fluttering nerves. David nudges my shoulder with his fist, and without looking at him I can tell he's sporting a huge grin.

"You and me, Freckles! Are you excited?" He whispers loudly, his voice trembling with anticipation.

"Er... sure," I mumble, knowing very well that it's a big enough lie to send alarms blaring in Candor. I turn back to the blackboard to check Tilly's matches and see, to my horror, that she's up against Fox and Craig. I don't know who'll be worse. Craig is an inexperienced boulder, but Fox is cunning and ruthless. Tilly will be steamrolled by both. As much as I don't want to see her get hurt I know she'll want me to sheer for her.

"You fight until one of you is unable to continue," Four informs sternly, immediately bringing the chatter to an end. His jaw is squared, his teeth clenched tightly when he doesn't speak. He's clearly unhappy with something. Eric's standing a few feet behind him, picking at his cuticles, and I can't help but notice the shit eating grin on his face at Four's words. I have a really bad feeling about this. "Remember that these fights are only for ranking. If I catch any of you deliberately inflicting permanent injury, you're out. We have no use for crippled initiates," Four adds, and Eric's grin drops slightly.

We're not allowed to surrender. A picture of my immediate future is starting to emerge. It involves two knock-outs, most likely with myself hitting the floor. Also, if I understand Four correctly being the victim of a permanent injury will see us out through the same door as the one who's inflicted it. It's a double-edged sword if I've ever seen one.

When Four calls the first two initiates to the fighting ring, which is actually just a square section of floor marked with tape, the rest of us dissipate in smaller groups. I join Tilly by a pillar close by, and we sit in stunned silence for a while as we watch the fight.

Two of the girls in Craig's group, Meg and Claire, have the dubious honor of being the first to fight. Claire's a bit bigger than Meg, but apparently Meg's got a better head on her shoulders. Knowing that she's not skilled or strong enough to win on her own she allows Claire to attack her and keeps avoiding the blows. Claire is worn out in a matter of minutes, after which Meg sets in a few well-aimed attacks that Claire can't block. Meg ends the fight with a swift blow to the bridge of her nose, sending Claire to the floor in an unconscious heap.

We watch a few other fights, and as we progress I feel my body start to rebel against me. I'm shivering and sweating at the same time, and my mind is spinning too fast to gain any valuable knowledge from the fights we watch. All I can think about is that I'll soon be getting my first beating. I wasn't lying yesterday. The closest to a fight I've ever been is when I've play-wrestled Nathan, and even then I always ended up crying because Nathan was a little rough. He always stopped when I started crying. I have a feeling that's not going to happen here.

Deciding that I can't stand watching anymore I rise to my feet.

"Where are you going?" Tilly asks.

"I can't sit here anymore. I need to move. It's probably a good idea to warm up before the fight."

* * *

"Asta and Otto! Get ready!" Four calls out, and I freeze mid-punch. He might as well have dropped a bucket of ice over my head. I start shaking uncontrollably and black spots appear at the edges of my vision. Then Tilly grabs my elbow and brings me back to reality.

"You'll be fine. We'll laugh about it afterwards," she assures. I can't say anything in response, so I just adjust my wraps and approach the ring.

I stop by one of the pillars and use it as support as I watch the remainder of the fight before me. Craig and the Abnegation boy, Matthew, are circling each other slowly. Matthew is limping and his body is curled to the right, as though he's protecting his ribs. Craig's nose is bleeding profusely and probably broken. My vision darkens at the edges and I swallow thickly, fighting the urge to look away. To my luck both Four and Eric are busy watching the two fighters, giving me a moment to compose myself.

I spot Otto on the other side of the ring. He's fiddling with his hand wraps, trying his best not to look nervous. He's slight of build and uncoordinated like me, and I don't recall seeing his raised hand yesterday when Four asked about our experience. However, he's taller than I and far more muscular, and unless he intends to fight me kneeling I won't be able to hit any of the pain points Fox described at breakfast.

I swallow again as Craig's fist meets Matthew's eye, clipping his eyebrow and sending him tumbling. I look away and try to focus on my own strategy.

I can't use brute force like Craig. I'm lighter and shorter than Otto, and my technique is lacking severely. If only I was taller. I'll just have to adopt Meg's technique.

A roar sounds from the square and I see Matthew collapse. Craig remains standing, and when he sees me he smirks arrogantly before spitting blood on the floor in front of my boots. Prick.

"Asta and Otto," Four calls as he waves us inside the taped square. He makes a note on the clipboard in his hands before telling us to begin. Meanwhile Eric drags Matthew's limp form from the ring by the neck of his jacket.

I clench my teeth to stop them from chattering and step inside. The floor is already smeared with blood. I avoid looking at it by focusing on Otto as I bring up my aching arms in the protective fighting stance we were taught. Otto imitates me before approaching cautiously.

" _Today_ ," Four calls out, and seconds later I only just manage to avoid the fist that swings at my head, shrieking in surprise. The next one collides painfully with my exposed ribs, sending me stumbling across the floor. The pain pulls a shout from me and I bite down hard on my lips to stop the sound. He takes advantage of my pause, pummeling my raised arms with heavy fists, and I try my best to keep up my guard. It eventually slips and he lands a punch on my left ear, blinding me with pain and sending the room spinning. I bring my hands up to my ringing head to regain control and for a moment he stops his attack, hesitating.

I force myself to take a deep breath and reorient myself. Someone yells but I don't register the words, instead trying to figure out how to approach Otto. He's controlled the fight since it started. I look for any weakness to exploit, but he has none that I know of. If only I was taller so I could reach his face… or could make Otto shorter!

An idea forms, and as Otto prepares for his next blow I'm ready. His body language reveals that he's most likely having a go at my head again. I manage to counter the blow somewhat awkwardly and the block throws off his balance. I then dodge under his stretched arm and thrust my fist into his soft midsection. He doubles over, completely unprepared and wheezing, and I don't hesitate as I grab the back of his head and smash my knee into his face.

A sickening crunch is followed by a howl of pain. My stomach twists as thick blood gushes from his broken nose.

"You _BITCH_!" Otto roars, and before I can protect myself his fist collides with my temple, sending stars exploding across my vision. The floor rises to meet me, and then darkness takes me.

* * *

I wake up to the not-quite-pleasant sensation of having my head smashed repeatedly against the floor. I twist in pain, trying to escape the assault, before I realize that I'm alone and lying on my back. I gingerly cradle my head, inspecting my skin with my fingertips to see if anything is broken or bleeding. I can't feel any blood, but my left temple is sore and swollen. A heavy feeling settles in my chest upon realizing that I lost my first fight. Losing hurts, I find, though not as much as my head does. The training room spins around as I try to sit up, so I just make myself content with the hard floor below me. I idly watch the sky lights rock back and forth above me as I recall the fight. I cringe inwardly at my performance. When I wasn't busy defending myself I was shrieking and moaning with pain. The humiliation washes over me and I'm suddenly glad that I'm alone. It means that no one will see me wipe my eyes.

I'm suddenly not feeling so guilty over breaking Otto's nose.

I let the humiliation tear at my insides for a while and somehow manage to fall asleep despite the throbbing headache. When I wake again it's to the sound of heavy boots and something heavy dragging across the floor. The boots stop right next to my head. I bring an arm up to protect my head, hoping they won't step on me.

Peeking out under my elbow I find myself next to the beaten up face of a very unconscious Fox. Whoever's in the boots must have dragged her here from the ring. I look up and to my horror meet Eric's cold eyes.

"Finally decided to wake up, huh?" He drawls condescendingly as he walks in a leisurely pace around her limp body. "Did you have a nice nap?"

"Who took care of Fox?" I ask hoarsely, ignoring his question. He smirks in response. I already hate it when he does that.

"Blondie did. Gave her a damn good beating," he chuckles darkly and crouches down, unzipping the top of Fox's training jacket to take her pulse on the side of her neck. I blink a few times, trying to remember which of the initiates have blonde hair. Then it dawns on me.

" _Tilly_ did this?!" I ask, bewildered as ever. Eric doesn't respond, instead prying open one of Fox's swollen eyes to check her pupils. I knew Tilly was good, but this is unexpected. Fox looks like she was hit by a bus at full speed. I groan as I struggle to sit up. Where _is_ Tilly?

"You look a bit wobbly," Eric points out. I ignore him, and the room takes another spin around me as I finally manage to prop myself against the wall. I feel worse than the time I was allowed wine at dad's birthday party and overindulged. The hangover could have killed small rodents.

I observe quietly as he casually shines a penlight into Fox's eye. He must have done the same to me after my fight. The thought of him touching me sends unpleasant chills down my spine. While his treatment of her is competent and professional it's also extremely insensitive. He lacks the careful movements of the nurses in Erudite, instead performing every action as quickly as possible. He clearly has no interest in taking care of the initiates, which makes me wonder why he does it.

"Stop gawking and ask whatever it is you want to ask," he suddenly says, catching me off-guard.

"How come you take care of us? I thought we had an official nurse assigned to Dauntless?" I ask in a plain tone, not wanting to provoke him.

"Our official nurse is _occupied_ ," he answers, drawling the last word, before placing a cooling pad over Fox's eyes. "A patrol ran into a bunch of factionless. They're a little worse for wear now, and therefore first priority."

"And the factionless?" I ask. He looks straight into my eyes, and the unpleasant smile spreading across his face tells me everything and more. _Gone_. He rises from his crouched position and turns to walk away.

"I-I have another question," I add and continue before he can stop me. "Did you forget to send down my bed yesterday or was it on purpose?"

Eric stops mid-stem and turns to face me, a bored expression gliding over his face. "I changed my mind when I saw how poorly you performed. You're gonna have to work harder to earn it," he informs matter of factly, and I have to resist the urge to get up and punch him. I doubt that I can even stand at the moment, but the thought of spending another night on the floor is an impossible one.

I open my mouth to tell him exactly what I think of him when bile rises in my throat again. This time I can't stop it, and before I know it I topple over and vomit on the floor. At least, I try to - nothing but coffee comes out. It burns and stings in my throat on the way. My body clearly isn't satisfied with the mediocre attempt and keeps trying to reject my stomach contents again and again. Eventually it reaches the point where it feels like my stomach's tearing itself apart. I'm shaking from exhaustion and pain and I can't breathe, and just when my vision begins to narrow I feel something heavy on my shoulder tilting me back to an upright position.

"Breathe," Eric's instructs, and I try my best to quell the spasms in my chest. Slowly but surely I regain control, and when I finally lean back against the wall Eric rises and retrieves something from a duffle bag next to Fox. When he returns he's holding a bottle of water. It's the best thing I've seen all day. He unscrews the lid before handing it to me.

"Drink."

He doesn't have to tell me twice. I take greedy sips, trying to wash away the acidic taste in my mouth and filling my hollow stomach.

"You're done fighting for today. Make sure to eat something during lunch. Initiates who starve themselves never last long." Even though his tone is bored and indifferent the last comment seems strange. Why would he care? He seems like he can't wait for me to get gone.

"Won't that give me a bad score?"

"Yes," he shrugs, "I suppose it will."

"What do I do then?" I croak, feeling panic starting to stir in my chest.

"You could avoid getting a concussion the next time you fight. By the way, you're sleeping in the infirmary tonight. You need to be checked up on every couple of hours."

"I have a concussion?" I repeat, blinking at him. It explains a lot.

"You're dim as fuck, Freckles. Do I need to repeat myself?"

"N-no, I just… I've never had a concussion before. Is it serious?" I ask softly. He looks at me for a moment before snorting in cruel amusement.

"No. You should be up and running again in a day. You remembered your friend's name and where you are, and you seem just as stupid as you were yesterday, so-"

"Why do you think I'm stupid?" I interrupt before I can stop myself.

"Because someone as useless as you doesn't belong in a faction like this. You should know that. If you were smart you'd have stayed where you came from." He spits. He doesn't wait for my reply before he returns to watch the fights, leaving me wishing I'd kept my mouth shut.

The worst thing is that I know he's right.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! Was there something you _loved_ , or do you have any suggestions for improvement? Don't hesitate to tell me! I'd love to hear your thoughts on the matter!**

 **PS. Did anyone catch the pun in the chapter title?  
**


	11. Chapter 11 - Dropping Eaves

**A/N: Whew! Long time no see, am I right? I've spent a good amount of time thinking the plot over and finally feel like I've got it nailed down. This chapter is extra long to make up for the wait!**

 **Disclaimer: The Divergent Trilogy doesn't belong to me, I'm just borrowing it. Asta and the gang are mine.**

* * *

 _Somewhere in the city a man is gasping for his breath. His face is wet, more than wet, dripping with dirty water. His eyes are wide with fear, the little wrinkles around them that testify to a life of smiling caked with dirt and dead skin. This is the most he's washed for weeks. The room is dark, it always is, except for the light filtering in below the door, illuminating the rough concrete floor. A tiny lunar landscape of craters and hills and plaster dust._

" _What is it with you, Williams?" A voice says. He feels the vibrations of the voice as much as he hears it. He knows the room so well by now that it might as well be a part of him. He's spent hours tracing the cracks in the walls with his fingers, looking for weaknesses, holes, gaps. There are none, of course, and yet he still does it every day. The earth might have shifted below him, moved the walls a bit._

" _Why don't you just give up? You have nothing left." The words vibrate in the woman's chest, through her arm and into the roots of his tangled hair which she holds so firmly in her bony fist. The skeleton woman, he calls her in his mind. He imagines that, if he had the strength to hit her, she would snap like a dry twig. He doesn't know for how long he's been wasting away. Nothing in the room gives away the time. He was stripped of his luminescent wristwatch when he arrived. The light under the door doesn't change. Even his food doesn't arrive at the same time every day, and he doesn't know how many meals he gets. He suspects that they vary between one and two based on how thin he's become._

 _However, the woman is wrong. He does have something, something important, something to live for. So he doesn't speak._

" _Have it your way," she says, her stainless steel voice carrying no emotion, and his head is shoved back into the filthy tub._

* * *

"You should drink something," Tilly says as she shoves her water bottle across the space between our beds. I push it away, my stomach already heavy with water.

"I'll drown if I drink any more. I've got a mild concussion, not severe dehydration. You all need to stop fussing and go get dinner!" I deflect.

"You're not coming with us?" She asks, and I shake my head.

"I'll get some later, I think. I'm afraid I'll throw it up if I eat now. Go and eat with David and Elias."

"I'm worried about you, you know," she scowls, but nonetheless stands and walks to the door.

"Don't be," I try to assure her. "I'll see you later."

I count to a hundred after the door closes. Then I sit up in my bed and pull my shoes on. I need to find Nathan.

My stomach groans defiantly when I cross the Pit, the smell of food wafting from the dining hall, but I shake it off and hurry across the chasm and into the stairway. It's not before I climb the seventh set of stairs that I realize I haven't a clue where I'm going.

"You're a twat, Asta," I pant to myself as I reach the eighth landing. The stairs stop here. The only other option I have than going back down is to go through the slightly open metal door. I nudge the heavy door fully open and take a cautious step inside. On the other side is a long hallway lit by the warm afternoon sun through tall windows. I nearly sigh as I step into the daylight, reveling in the warmth.

The sound of talking startles me. I look around me in panic and realize that the wall opposite the windows is peppered with office doors. I'm almost positive that I'm not supposed to be here - wasn't there a keypad on the other side of the door? As the talking moves closer I spot one of the door handles moving, and I retreat to the landing. I leave the door the way I found it, slightly ajar, and move soundlessly towards the stairs.

"...and Mr. Williams still hasn't given in?"

I freeze to the spot, my entire body instantly turning into a listening device. There is no answer, but the male voice hums affirmatively, making me think he's on the phone. His footsteps stop right outside the door, and I can't decide if I should scamper or stay to eavesdrop.

The voice laughs. "You told him that? My, my, Doctor, I never knew you had it in you."

My feet are glued to the metal grill below me.

"You could always remind him that we have his children. That might make him talk."

I suddenly find the will to move and nearly fly down the stairs, not wanting to hear the rest of the conversation. Only when I'm four stories below do I stop. I only know two men named Williams. Both of them are related to me.

I don't know how long I stay on the fourth floor landing. My mind is spinning so fast that I feel like I might become airborne. Dad's alive. Dad's in danger. They want him to reveal something important. He hasn't revealed anything yet. That's a good thing. They have Nathan and I. That's a bad thing. They might use us for leverage. They-

"Asta? What are you doing here?"

I whirl on the spot and find myself face to face with Nathan.

"Why aren't you at dinner?"

" _Ineedtotalktoyou_!" I hiss before grabbing his hand and dragging him back down the hallway he just left.

* * *

"O...kay," Nathan huffs, looking almost ill. "Let me get this straight. You think dad's being held captive?"

"Yes," I confirm.

"-And you think Erudite has something to do with it?"

"The man I heard called the one he was speaking to 'doctor'. Where else do they educate doctors?" I ask rhetorically. Nathan gives me a sideways look.

"Yes, okay, I'm not a complete moron. So, suppose dad's actually been stowed away somewhere in Erudite all this time-

"Which he evidently has-" I interrupt, earning a hard glare.

"-refusing to give up information or whatnot - and they've only _now_ thought to use us to get to him?"

"Exactly. Not too bright if you ask me."

A stray thought propels through the room and hits me like a big fat fly in the forehead.

 _I only just arrived_.

"Nathan… do you think there's any significance to us being _here_ and not in Erudite? Are we at risk here? Do you think they… could they have tampered with our tests?"

Nathan grows very, very quiet. Ever so slowly his eyebrows start migrating towards his hairline, his mouth opening in a silent 'o'. He doesn't reply, which tells me more than I need to know.

"Fuck." I state, sinking back against the wall.

We sit in silence on Nathan's bench for a while, both trying to figure out exactly what this means. I wonder briefly if dad's captivity is a secret, but then decide that it can't be. If it was, the person I heard on the phone would be more cautious. They could of course be immensely stupid, but I somehow doubt it. Suppose only a select few know, then. For instance, the entire eighth floor.

"Nathan? What is on the eighth floor?"

"The offices of a few high ranking Dauntless," he replies without looking at me. "The hallway leads out to the glass building on the roof-"

"What high ranking Dauntless?" I press on, making him look at me.

"The five leaders and their associates. Why?"

"Eric's been very nosy. I wonder if he's part of this."

Nathan's brows hurry to the centre of his forehead where they attempt to merge, only to be separated by a deep furrow. "If he is, you need to watch your back. Eric used to be Erudite, you know. If Erudite has a share in this there's a good chance he's in it, too, and unlike most of the gorillas here he's actually got a working brain."

"I thought he was from Dauntless?" I ask, bewildered. Nathan shakes his head.

"He transferred four years ago. I remember him from school - he was a scrawny kid with no friends. He nearly got kicked out for getting in a fight with one of my classmates."

That changes everything. I try to picture younger Eric, but it's hard to imagine him as a skinny teenager when he's built like a boulder now. I however have no difficulty envisioning him as a lonely, angry boy. His personality isn't exactly inviting. It hits me that he can be no older than 20.

"He's very young for a leader, isn't he?"

"The youngest ever. He got into the leadership programme after he passed initiation." Nathan confirms sourly.

I grow silent again, wondering how a kid of nearly 17 could possibly get bumped to leadership within two months in Dauntless. I don't think two decades could prepare me for such a position. It hints uncomfortably towards foul play.

"By the way, I looked over the file you gave me," Nathan then points out, and I immediately forget about Eric. My fingers find the edge of the couch cushion and squeeze hard with sudden anticipation.

"Yes? What do you think?" I ask eagerly. To me it was like finding a hidden treasure. I wonder if Nathan feels the same.

"There are too many holes for me to decide on anything," He answers, and my fingers slacken with disappointment. "A front page here and a list there doesn't create the best picture."

"But- but it's so obvious-" I stutter, "The pages were IN the folder when I found it! Dad must have meant for us to piece the information together!"

"Or-" Nathan injects, "it's completely coincidental. Knowing dad his study was probably a royal mess. The majority of the files could have fallen out of the folder before you found it."

"It was sitting in the middle of his desk, Nathan!" I stress, pointing accusingly at him. "It even had a phial lying on top of it. It couldn't have tumbled down from anywhere."

Nathan sighs heavily. "Look, even if you're right it's still a messy and incomplete file. I'll gladly take another look at it, but if I were you right now I'd focus my energy on getting through initiation." His tone is accusing, disappointed even.

I can't explain what happens next. It's as if my eyes become glazed with red the moment the words leave him. My body tenses, becoming a tight coil that's ready to spring at him. I feel my hand curl into a fist by my side without willing it to, and before I know it I start yelling. " _WHAT_? Are you _serious_?" I shriek. "What about dad? What about _us_? Don't you CARE?!"

My fist shoots out. Then my world flips and I'm looking at the ceiling.

"Asta! What-the-fuck?" Nathan hisses. I try to sit up but find him draped on top of me, pinning my hands against the floor. How did I end up on the floor?

"What is _wrong_ with you?" He grunts. I honestly don't know. For a moment I wanted to punch the living daylight out of him. Now the moment is gone and my body sinks into the floorboards. Nathan loosens his grip on me as soon as he realises I'm no longer trying to attack him.

"I-I'm sorry, I…" I stutter, completely overwhelmed. I've never experienced anything like it before. It's not even been a full day since I punched someone for the first time, and now I'm a frothing beast. The room spins above me. "I need to get to the infirmary. Will you walk me there? I don't know where it is."

Nathan blinks slowly at me before getting up and offering me his hand. "Why do you need to go there?" He asks, his voice laced with worry.

"I have a concussion. It's sort of a long story. I'll tell you on the way."

* * *

I try to get rid of Nathan once the infirmary is in sight, not wanting to look like a small child being escorted by her big brother, but he insists on going in with me. He also insists on recounting the entire story of how I secured myself a concussion to the nurse, Atlas, while I try to become as invisible as possible.

I have never in my life been so humiliated. He might as well accompany me to training tomorrow, too.

Atlas, a middle aged Dauntless man with heavily inked skin and kind eyes, then decides that it would be best to do a "full drill" on me. I nod placidly when he suggests it but soon regret doing so. Atlas bids Nathan goodbye before shutting the frosted glass door to his office and instructing me to take off my clothes.

"I beg you pardon?" I stutter, my arms automatically flying up to cover my chest.

"Relax, Asta. Just lose the pants and shirt. I need to weigh you." He turns on the spot and burrows into a cabinet drawer full of plastic wrapped somethings. Meanwhile I regretfully remove my trainers and socks before gingerly pulling off my shirt.I take time folding it and placing it on an uncomfortable looking metal chair. My pants soon follow suit, leaving me feeling like the weakest and palest girl to ever jump into Dauntless. Shivers dance up and down my back as I wait for Atlas to find his equipment. By the time he's ready I'm covered in gooseflesh.

"Step onto the scale, Asta," He instructs. When I oblige he notes down my weight on a clipboard in spidery handwriting. Below it he jots down my height. Then I'm instructed to take my socks off and step onto another machine. Atlas tells me it measures the ratio between my fat and muscle tissue. If I wasn't so uncomfortable I'd be intrigued. The metal feels cold beneath my soles as I wait for the machine to bleep and spit out a strip of numbers. Atlas dutifully writes these down, too, as I take a seat on the uncomfortable chair's equally uncomfortable twin.

"I'll just take a few blood samples and then we're done." He begins unwrapping one of the plastic wrapped somethings he gathered from the drawer, revealing a syringe attached to a long rubber cord and three plastic phials. "Your right arm, please," he requests. Upon resting it on the table with my palm facing upwards he rubs the soft inside of my elbow with an alcohol-saturated cotton ball. I bite my tongue as he punctures the skin and force myself to look as blood fills the rubber tube and drains into the phials. It makes me uncomfortably dizzy, but I don't turn my head or close my eyes. Finally he removes the syringe, placing in its stead a see-through band aid.

"You're a little malnourished, Asta." He remarks as if commenting on the weather. I'm not surprised. The last few months with mom were lean.

"I know," I reply quietly.

"I can give you a list of foods that'll improve your vitamin deficiencies and give you more energy," he adds, and I nod.

"Thank you," I mutter.

"Let me have a look at your eyes, hmm?" He asks rhetorically as he scoots closer on his office chair. For the second time today a penlight is directed at my eyes, one at a time, and then he asks me to look at the penlight as he moves it left and right in front of me.

"I'm not the least concerned about your concussion. You'll be right as rain in a few hours, but just to be safe I think you should stay the night." I nod mechanically. I honestly just want to go back to my friends.

"Let me just fetch you a pyjamas and toothbrush - you might as well change into that immediately."

Atlas leaves the room in a blur of black scrubs, leaving me half-naked on a cold metal chair. Its edges dig uncomfortably into the back of my exposed thighs.

"There you are," he sing-songs as he re-enters the office with a pile of black cotton. I hastily pull it on and, feeling incredibly more at ease with my body covered, smile gratefully at him.

"This way, missus," He exits his office and leads me a few yards down the hall to another frosted glass door. I hear muffled voices through it. I didn't know there were other people in there, but I guess it makes sense. "Don't mind the noise, I'll get them to tone it down," he mentions casually as he opens the door, allowing the voices to spill loudly from the room before they die out.

Upon entering I find five pairs of eyes fixed on me.

"ATLASSS!" One of them then shouts across the ward in cheerful greeting, "Who's the twig?"

* * *

 **Thank you ever so much for reading. Do you have any suggestions? Any issues? Was there something you just _loved_? Feel free to tell me! I won't bite!**


	12. Chapter 12 - From the bottom and up

**First things first; I apologize for the (very very) belated update. I did not anticipate the major work load that came with my new job as a product manager at a product manufacturing company. I was hired after exactly six months of unemployment after I finished my masters degree and I've always been somewhat bad at major life changes. When I was a kid I couldn't even deal with rearranging my furniture, and this is a complete revamp of my life. I'm loving it though, and my boss is very happy with the work that I do. In fact I've been writing the majority of this chapter on various planes on my way to foreign countries. I've also been hitting the gym a lot more lately and have taken up running after signing up for a 5k at the spur of the moment.**

 **I am not a smart woman.**

 **At any rate I hope you enjoy this chapter and hope to whip up another chapter soon. Thank you for the encouraging reviews, they have really helped getting me going again! You guys are the fuel to my quite modest bonfire.**

 **Disclaimer: Still not mine, dangit. I wouldn't be living in a two room apartment if it was. I lay full claim to Asta and her merry friends.**

* * *

"Up and at 'em, kiddo! The sun is shining five stories above us and it's a be-a-utiful day" Atlas chirps cheerfully as he rouses me from a very unsatisfying night's rest.

Five lively patrol guards, hospitalized after a clash with a group of factionless, played the loudest game of cards I've ever witnessed. They continued well into the early hours of morning, at which point Atlas threatened to add a few new injuries to their already impressive tally if they didn't "shut the hell up and go to bed or God so help me".

I wake slowly, my eyes rolling around in my head grasping for focus. When they finally agree on zoning in on the clock on the nightstand next to me I realize it's barely five in the morning and groan. I then try to sit up, only to be assaulted by a flash of pain that makes my vision darken at the edges.

"Son of a bi-" I catch myself just before I swear, biting my tongue. I feel like I've been steamrolled. I try to lift my legs over the edge of the bed but lose control, and instead of supporting me they end up dragging the rest of me onto the floor, squawking indignantly, where I land in a heap of limbs. I'm still trying to dislodge myself, all the while grumbling to myself, when Atlas comes to my aid and helps me up.

"Ah, yes, getting a good beating is only half the fun. The real agony usually shows its face the day after," he grins at me as if he's fondly remembering the good old days. He hands me a pile of folded clothes, my own I realize, and with a shooing motion ushers me to the bathroom at the end of the ward. "Go wash up and then meet me in my office for a final check-up."

I glare at him in response, yet grab the offered clothes and gingerly make my way to the facilities.

The check-up is quick. He examines me in order to assess my concussion much like Eric did to Fox yesterday, only a bit more gentle, before announcing that I'm in the safe zone. Then he pats my shoulder in a fatherly way, sending a longing pang through my chest after my own dad and his bright smiles, and sends me off to breakfast with a firm order to not get beat up anytime soon. "Give 'em hell, kiddo," he tells me as we part at the entrance to the infirmary. I want to say something witty in return but can't for the life of me summon the energy to do so, so I just wave sluggishly at him.

I drag my sore body to the dining hall where I exchange groggy hello's and morning's with my friends and fetch a bowl of cereal. I eat slowly, resting my head on my fist, and let conversation drift around me without making an effort to participate in it. My eyes are heavy from the lack of sleep. If I could just shut them for a moment...

A large hand grabs the back of my head and violently shoves it forward. I try to resist but I'm too slow. The next thing I know my nose slams against the bottom of my bowl of soggy cereal and milk replacement.

I emerge quickly, spluttering, and the surrounding tables explode in laughter. I feel heat rise to my face and wipe breakfast out of my eyes and aching nose. I want to slide under the table and never again emerge, my throat constricting with raw emotion, but a voice in the back of my head tells me I should get revenge instead. It seems like the logical thing to do in Dauntless, so I look around for the culprit. I don't have to look long.

"Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, _Freckles_ , and you need all your strength! Oh, wait - you don't have any!" Craig mocks, earning a chorus of spiteful laughter from his friends. Otto is doubled over in ugly snorts, his breath limited by his broken nose, and I no longer feel any trace of guilt over being the one to break it. I don't respond - I doubt I can make up a coherent sentence. I just let the anger rise in me without attempting to stop it. My chest constricts, tightening to a hot, hard ball. It was the same sensation that coursed through me before I attempted to hit Nathan yesterday. I try my best to squash it down and control it, but then Craig spits at the floor in front of my feet before turning to leave with his gang and my anger is renewed. This isn't over.

"Oh, Asta, you've got cornflakes everywhere…" Tilly moans in horror, her hand hovering mid-air, not quite able to decide if she should help clean it off my face or not.

"I'll get you a napkin," Elias offers helpfully, but I dismiss his offer with a harsh shake of my head. It's as if I watch myself from the outside as I rise from my seat and grab the remains of my breakfast. Then I jog after my bullies. A voice of reason tells me to back away, to leave them alone, but this time I choose not to listen. I can feel the eyes of the entire dining hall on me and try to ignore the sensation of a particularly slimy corn flake sliding down my neck as their laughter rise around me. I catch up with them just outside the dining hall, my bowl still in my hand.

"Craig!" I yell, and he turns around with a disgusting smirk plastered all over his face. I blink and the world slows before me.

When I open my eyes again it's to an entirely different setting. My hand is empty. I can guess why when I look at Craig. His face is dripping and contorted in ugly rage and the black tee-shirt he's wearing is soaked and speckled with pale yellow, soggy bits of cereal, the metal bowl lying at his feet. Then he charges towards me, his hands stretched out in angry claws, and I'm not fast enough to avoid him. His meaty hands close around my throat and I grab at them, trying to get him to release me, but it's no use. He lifts me from the ground, crushing my windpipe, and my lungs burn as vision begins to blur around the edges.

It stops as quickly as it began. His hands release me and I tumble to the ground, coughing and wheezing for breath, my ears ringing. I hear yelling and stomping of feet, and when I look up I find out why.

"What - _the hell_ \- do you think you're doing?" Eric roars at Craig, holding him by the scruff of his jacket. His feet are barely touching the ground. Craig doesn't answer. I don't think he can with his zipper digging into his Adam's apple like that.

"He started it," David's voice rings out clearly from behind me. I look around and to my surprise realise my friends have joined me. Tilly bends down and helps me stand. "You can ask anyone in the dining hall. They all saw it."

"Let me make one thing _very_ clear," Eric hisses, releasing Craig. My stomach turns to hard ice at his tone. His voice is deadly and quiet, but he might as well have screamed at us. "I don't give a shit who started this." He gestures behind me angrily, and I suddenly notice how noisy the pit is. Yells and squeals stream from the entrance of the dining hall, occasionally interrupted by a monumental crash of metal against rock. "All _I_ care about is who's going to clean it up." The last part of the sentence is an unspoken threat. _I will make sure you wish you were never born_ , he says without saying it.

Eric walks towards the entrance and we follow along mechanically. That's when I discover the source of the noise and wince involuntarily.

The dining hall has turned into a gigantic food fight.

* * *

"I started a food fight," I mutter to myself, staring blankly ahead of me.

"Tell me about it!" Tilly chimes in behind me.

"I started an actual food fight. I've never done anything like that before. Oh no - and we have a food shortage… this is horrible..."

"Well, at least you didn't get the full blame," Tilly chirps cheerfully, completely ignoring that we've probably wasted five hundred food rations in the matter of minutes. Clearly she doesn't see the big issue.

"Yeah, _so_ nice!" Elias chimes in, words dripping with sarcasm. "I'm _so_ glad we all got off easy." He dunks his sponge in our shared bucket of once-soapy, now-grimy-and-foul-smelling water, making suds fly in all directions, and wrings it over the surface, making a sour face at me as he does it. Tilly pokes out her tongue at him which cheers me up a tiny bit.

"Shut up and keep scrubbing!" Lauren, the other instructor from choosing day, barks as she passes by. She, Four, and some of the high-ranking Dauntless are monitoring the dining hall, pacing back and forth between the rows of tables. I bite my cheek and scrub more vigorously at what could be scrambled eggs with ketchup on the worn tabletop. It's got a large footprint in it.

Eric had broken up the food fight with a lot of yelling and some prime examples on the creative use of expletives and threats in everyday sentences. Then, after lining every single culprit up in the Pit, we were informed that we could either start cleaning immediately or take a permanent vacation to the other side of the fence. Naturally we all dove for the pile of scrubbers that had just been set out for us and got to work. The angry glares from the other initiates still prickle on my back from time to time but I tell myself firmly that it's not my fault. Not entirely anyway. If it wasn't for that fit of rage that overcame me we probably would be busy in the training room right now.

The memory fills me with a sense of dread. Being angry is one thing - being so angry that one blacks out is another thing entirely.

"Tilly?" I whisper inconspicuously across the table, trying not to attract attention.

"Yeah?"

"What exactly did I do after I ran after Craig?" I try to sound casual but I'm afraid that some of the fear bleeds into my words.

"What do you mean? Don't you remember?"

I don't answer immediately. "Not exactly. Maybe it's because of the concussion?"

"Maybe…" she replies, sounding worried. "Anyway, you told him that he should have some more breakfast, that he looked like he could use all the strength he could get since he was afraid of a skinny girl like you. Then you hurled a handful of that sludge you eat at him. It was brilliant, really, it's too bad that you don't remember it. Then he-"

Large hands slam against the tabletop right next to me and I jump almost comically in surprise, dropping my sponge. It hits the floor with a wet _splat_.

" _Work_." Eric hisses into my ear. I clench my teeth and nod, staring straight ahead. Then I pick up the sponge and get back to work.

The concussion could explain everything, I reflect. The knot in my stomach loosens slightly at the thought. Maybe I'm just being paranoid.

Twenty minutes later we're on our way to the training room. My face is scrubbed clean and my mood is significantly better. I even got half a cup of the trademark bitter Dauntless coffee before we left the dining hall and can feel the buzz of it kicking in. Maybe today will be a better day than yesterday.

"Does anyone know what we're doing today?" I ask my friends.

"After the last fight yesterday Four explained that we'll be sparring all day," David informs.

I nod, disappointed. I'd hoped for more shooting. I'm significantly better at that than at sparring, anyway.

We enter the room to the sight of the blackboard Four dragged out yesterday. This time it's filled with names. The other initiates surge forward to inspect the board, leaving me trailing behind. I have a feeling that I won't like it.

The feeling is confirmed when Otto's smug, pointy face looks my way. He turns to say something to Craig and they both laugh. I take a deep, steadying breath and look at the board.

My name is on the very bottom. The knot in my stomach rapidly expands to double its size.

* * *

When I return to my bed at the end of the day I'm bone tired and nearly ready to pass out.

Training was horrible. My body felt slow and heavy and sore, and despite mine and Tilly's best effort I didn't improve a lot. After lunch we went running through the compound, myself falling horribly behind. Eric was yelling at me to get my skinny ass over the threshold to the training room at the end, the rest of the group waiting impatiently for me. Then Four thought it would be a good idea for us to do some basic strength training. By six I was ready to lie down on the worn, sweat slicked floor of the training room and sleep.

Ironically, as I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling I can't seem to fall asleep. I lie awake amidst a sea of gentle breathing, willing my eyelids to become heavy. I trace and retrace the cracks in the concrete ceiling, emphasized by the flickering bathroom light, as I match my breath to Tilly's. In… out… in… out...

Go to sleep, Asta.

My brain doesn't slow down. I keep revisiting the blackout at breakfast, mulling it over. Am I losing my mind? Will they kick me out if I am? What if I do something horrible? I already attacked my own brother. My own flesh and blood. If I'll do that, what else will I do?

I sit up in bed, blinking. Ironically I need to get out, to move. Maybe if my body's busy my mind won't be.

I pick up my trainers and walk to the door on sock-muffled tiptoes. The fluorescent light from the bathroom reflects on the glass of the clock above the door. A quick look at it tells me it's past 11. I exit the sleeping quarters making sure to shut the door slowly so it doesn't creek. Then I put on my shoes and jog halfheartedly to the training room.

The light is spilling out of the slightly ajar double doors when I get there. I take a cautious glance inside before I step through the doors. The room is completely empty and seems enormous without the other black-clad initiates to fill it. I let the silence wash over me before I set off at a leisurely pace.

I run a few laps in the large room before I feel warm enough to increase my speed. After a few minutes I'm pumping my legs furiously, running as fast as I possibly can. When they feel like buckling I come to a stuttering halt by the punching bags, my trainers squeaking loudly against the floorboards. I'm gasping for breath and rapidly developing a stitch in my side, but for once I'm actually enjoying it. The hard pulse of my blood and the burning in my lungs clouds over the thoughts that have occupied my mind throughout the evening. A smile spreads on my face as a happy bubble forms in my chest.

I don't give myself the break my body craves but attack one of the bags with my unbound fists. The harsh slap of skin against canvas reverberates in the room. I hit it again and wince at the sting, and then again. The already irritated skin on my fists quickly turns red and angry and protests with every punch, but I won't stop. I keep going until the pain dulls to a monotonous sensation and suddenly find myself able to think about the punch instead of the pain. I test out different angles and techniques, relying on trial and error and listening intently as the sound and feeling of the impact changes, and suddenly it all makes sense to my Erudite brain. Sound is energy. The louder the sound, the more energy is transferred to my target. Ha!

I land punch after punch on the bag, feeling a sense of pride at my epiphany. For the first time since the Choosing Ceremony I feel like I might be able to fit in. It's a glorious feeling to have the threat of imminent and painful death suddenly thin out like fog under the sun.

When the door opens at the other end of the room and I twist around as I punch, missing the bag entire and tumbling to the floor with an undignified squawk.

"Don't you think you've failed enough for today?" Eric asks wickedly as he lets the door swing shut behind him. My entire body tenses up at the sound of his voice. I've been in Dauntless for less than a week and I've already learned to associate Eric's drawl with trouble. I quickly get back on my feet, sneaking a look at him as I'm getting up. Something's different about him. It takes me a few seconds to figure out what it is. He's wearing casual black training clothes consisting of loose sweatpants and a clingy wife beater. The amount of visible skin makes him look incredible undressed compared to his normally zippered-to-the-neck appearance. I look away from his massive arms as he approaches, focusing instead on a dirty piece of medical tape stuck to the floor.

"I couldn't sleep," I try hard to sound casual as I say the words.

"All things considered it's understandable," he says, his voice dangerously soft. "I'd be turning in my bed too if I were you. I don't think I've ever seen scores that low."

I try to ignore the bitter sting of his words. They could probably have been mistaken for empathic if they weren't delivered so cruelly. I wish I had a witty comeback, one that would make it seem like I have a backbone, but I can't think of anything. Instead I shrug halfheartedly before I turn my back to him and resume punching.

I search for the same happy bubble of success I had just before he appeared, but his presence in the training room has popped it and left me tense and doubtful. I then pray that he'll leave again, but to my dismay he starts jogging around the perimeter of the room instead. I try to direct my focus back on my technique, I really try, but my attention keeps chasing after the steady beat of his footsteps. I'm just about to give up and stomp out of the room when I hear him come to a halt behind me, his breath slightly hitched. His shoes don't squeak, I notice.

"Never practice alone. It only reinforces your mistakes," he points out simply.

I turn to face him and can't help but sigh as I prepare for another verbal lashing. "What do you suggest I do, then?" I ask tersely, feeling my face reddening as hopelessness settles in the pit of my stomach again. My hand are clenched tightly at my sides. "If I don't do something, anything, I'll be even worse off than I already am," I say. My voice quivers, betraying my emotions, and I turn back around to face the punching bag and take a deep breath to get my voice back under control.

"You could begin by keeping your wrists straight like that Amity of yours keeps trying to tell you," he suggests nonchalantly.

"I thought I was…" I mutter, running my fingers over my sore knuckles. The sound of his trainers against the floorboards is the only warning I get before he firmly grabs my right arm. His hands are warm and dry and calloused, and they scratch against my damp skin. He corrects my posture with a swift jerk, looking pointedly at me before he releases me. I stand there awkwardly for a moment, my arm stretched out before me.

"Keep tension in your wrists when you punch. It might come as a surprise to you, but you actually do have muscles somewhere in there. Use them." His tone is condescending and I can't help but sneer.

I land another jab on the bag, immediately feeling the difference. He hums in agreement as he clasps his arms on his back and walks around me, studying me critically. I try not to let his presence intimidate me, but it's harder than one would expect. He's huge. He's a good foot taller than me and more than twice as broad. He's built for war and destruction.

"If we ignore your blatant incompetence in most areas, your single worst issue is that you're small and weak," he remarks and I nod mechanically, trying my best not to get riled up. "If you use your elbows instead of your fists you'll make a larger impact with less force. If you can land a punch, that is." I'm beginning to notice a pattern in the way he speaks to me. It's as if he can't give advice unless it comes with a side dish of personal attack and offensive remarks.

"Step aside," he orders, and I reluctantly do as told. I have to remind myself that rude advice is better than no advice. He proceeds to show me how to use my elbows on the bag, demonstrating several different movements. He makes it look so easy, the bag careening with every blow from him. When he steps back and lets me try it barely quivers.

"Your stance is fine, but you need to follow through. This also applies to your fists. Watch-"

He jabs the bag quickly, his fist a blur through the air, and the bag swings back lazily instead of flying away from him. I blink, trying to understand how he didn't manage to move it further than he did. "See how I kept my body rigid?" When I don't answer he rolls his eyes, mumbling something under his breath that would have earned me a sharp rap on the shoulder by mom if I'd said it. "Watch…" he drawls, drawing the word out as if I'm slight of hearing. He jabs again, and this time I notice how his hips stay perfectly still while only his spine rotates.

"Now watch what happens when I follow through with my entire body."

He swings again, this time rotating his hips with his spine, effectively ending the movement with a sharp twist of his heel. The bag jerks back violently upon impact. "Did you pay attention this time?" I nod and get into position as he steps away. I try to copy his movements, but when I hit the bag it hardly moves. I hear him sigh loudly behind me.

"Clearly not. Try again."

As I prepare for another punch he stands next to me. I feel his foot nudge the tip of mine and I adjust it outwards like he wants me to.

He positions himself behind me, standing so close that I can feel his body heat through my jacket, before he tells me to slow down my next punch. I'm drawing back my arm as his hands touch each side of my hips. Wholly unprepared I jerk my arm further back than necessary and hear a muffled grunt as my elbow finds his stomach. I whirl around with wide eyes. "I'm sorry!" I cry out.

"Try again," he retorts gruffly.

I jab in slow motion and this time I manage not to react when his hands guide my hips into the movement. Part of me still wants to flee from the room the moment he touches me, but another part, a stronger part, realizes that this might just save my sorry ass from failing initiation.

"I-I think I got it now," I mutter as I square my jaw.

"Let me see."

I take a deep breath before retracing the position from before. As my fist speeds toward the bag I twist my hips and leg into the motion, earning a satisfyingly loud smack as my knuckles collide with the canvas. The punching bag jerks back from the hit and I can't stop a wide grin from spreading on my face. I did it!

I turn around to face Eric and his raised eyebrow. "What do you think?" I ask, trying to force my mouth into a straight line instead of the ridiculous smile I'm currently sporting.

"I think you should stop for today," he says, and my lips straighten out on their own accord.

"That bad?" I ask.

"No, although there's vast room for improvement," he says. I would probably collapse in shock if Eric ever paid me an actual compliment. "Stop while you're not a complete fuck up and resume training in-" he pauses to look at his wristwatch, "-seven hours. No, six hours and 59 minutes."

I do the math and my eyes widen in grim realization. "It's one in the morning?!" I gasp, and he gives me a look that makes me feel as dumb as he thinks I am.

"Fuck." I'll be the first ever initiate to fall asleep during training.

"Language, initiate." He's one to talk.

"Sorry. Goodnight!" I take off towards the doors but turn around, hesitating, before I exit. I should acknowledge that he helped me, even though he's the biggest jerk I've ever met. Mom would insist on me keeping my manners.

"And... thank you," I shout weakly, almost as an afterthought. The words taste wrong somehow when directed at Eric.

"Get the hell out and let me train in peace!" He yells back before squaring himself in front of the bag I was using minutes ago, and I scurry out, making sure to shut the door behind me. I never realized he came here to work out in the first place. The question is, why here? There are plenty of training rooms in Dauntless to pick from.

The moment I start walking I discover just how tired I am. As I drag my legs back to the sleeping quarters I wonder why on earth Eric would help me when he seems so hell-bent on getting me to quit.

* * *

I exit the sleeping quarters and find the hallways deserted. That is, not entirely. A slight girl is walking quickly down the dimly lit passage I can't help but follow her, walking quietly a few yards behind her. The blue lanterns make her unbound hair look strangely violet. Her pale skin on her naked arms takes on turquoise hues in the gloomy light.

The hallway is long and filled with dense darkness, the inky black only dissolving when a lonely lantern interrupts it. She passes in and out of view, walking for what seems like hours, until she stops abruptly in front of a door. The doorknob is a worn brass one, fastened to a distinctly _un-Dauntless_ door made of polished oak. The girl reaches out and twists the knob slowly, awaking a deeply unsettling feeling in me. I want to shout at her to not open it, but the words won't leave my lips. The door squeaks ominously when she puts her weight against it, and as she walks through it I find myself standing in dad's study.

I blink once, twice. This can't be right. It's clearly been disturbed since my last hurried visit. The air in the room smells stale, like the abandoned buildings I sometimes let Nathan convince me to explore with him when we were younger. The walls, ceiling, floor and furniture have all been covered in sheets of yellowing yellowing paper. Every single sheet bears the same red "CONFIDENTIAL" stamp I first saw on the on the first page in the manila folder. I quietly watch her, mortified, as the girl confidently walks to dad's oak desk. I approach cautiously behind her, trying to read the text on some of the pages that are littering the surfaces, but the text jumps all around the page, moving and blurring and disappearing as I try to read it. Then I hear a soft gasp from the girl. She's holding a glass phial filled with clear liquid, inspecting it closely with the fingertips. She swivels the clear contents twice, and in one swift move she removes the stopper and knocks the entire thing back. I grimace involuntarily as my arm stretches towards her involuntarily.

She turns to face me, and I'm overcome with a deep sense of dread as I finally see her face. It's like looking into a bizarre mirror and seeing my reflection move independently. Her dark eyebrows, my eyebrows, knit together and her mouth becomes an angry square.

"You can't have any more! There is no more!" She yells at me in my own voice.

"What do you mean?" I ask, scared, "I don't even know what it is!"

She smiles wickedly. The expression looks wrong on my face and I look away in discomfort.

"You don't know, no. You don't have to know in order for it to affect you, though."

I look at her again, trying to figure out what she means, and I'm startled by the expression of pure fury on her face. Her teeth are bared in a savage, canine snarl that makes me want to scamper away.

I barely have time to react before she lunges at me. I hold my arms in front of my face for protection and feel her grab my biceps. She shakes me once, twice.

"Asta!" she yells. Her voice is warped to a lighter pitch than that of my own voice. I try to throw her off, lashing out at her with my nails, but she only shakes me again.

"Asta, wake up!"

I open my eyes to find Tilly's deep blue ones staring at me warily. I blink a few times before I sit up in my bed and she settles next to me.

"What were you dreaming?" she asks gently. Her brows are furrowed with worry.

I look around, scanning the dormitory for listening ears. It's empty except for Tilly and I.

"Just a nightmare, I think. It was really weird... what time is it?"

"Seven sharp," she says, standing up. I notice her rubbing her arm. "Let's go get some breakfast."

"Tilly, did I hurt you?"

"Only a little," she tells me, hesitantly moving her hand so I can see the angry red marks on her arm.

* * *

The next couple of days go by at a glacial pace. I want to visit Nathan to tell him about the freaky dream I had, but on the rare occasion I find the time to go and knock on his apartment door he isn't home. Instead I invest my precious few hours of spare time in the training room with Tilly. We've both decided that we need to build muscle and spend our time drilling strength exercises and sparring. At one point we even grow bold enough to experiment with the rack of weights in the corner of the room.

I finally feel like I'm improving, growing stronger and braver by the day. Tilly even comments on my muscle growth one night after training. I admire myself in the bathroom mirror, acknowledging the added bulk on my thighs and arms and feeling on top of things for the first time since running out of the Hub.

Our fellow initiates spend their time exploring the Dauntless hallways and the shops lining the steep walls of the Pit. One afternoon Fox spends all of her points on a new, black wardrobe. All I buy is a pair of nail clippers, determined to avoid scratching anyone in my sleep again.

Some of the initiates even get tattoos and piercings, and one Friday morning Craig saunters into the dining hall sporting a pair of dermals over his left eyebrow similar to those of a certain mountainous leader. He's even styled his dirty blonde hair the same as Eric's. I exchange bemused glances with Tilly as we spot him across the room.

"Do you think he has a role model?" Tilly snickers.

"Gee, I don't know. Who -" I pause to let out a huge yawn, "- would it be?"

"That yawn was a silent scream for coffee," Tilly states as she reaches for the nearby coffee pot and a metal mug. She fills it and I accept it gratefully. "Did you stay in the gym after I left yesterday?" Tilly asks, and I nod as I sip the bitter coffee.

"Yeah, I felt like I could still improve a thing or two," I tell her. It's the understatement of the year.

"Can you pour me one as well,Tilly?" Elias asks groggily before receiving a second cup. "My hero," he coos at her, making her giggle.

"I kind of miss Erudite's coffee," I sigh over my cup.

"Whaddoyamean?" he slurs, taking a huge gulp of his own steaming mug.

"It's just that this is far more bitter. Erudite coffee was sweeter."

"I don't understand?" He says, looking truly nonplussed. "They taste the exact same."

They definitely don't. The coffee mom made always tasted somewhat sweet, even when you took it black. This is far more bitter. I scan Elias' face to see whether he's joking, but all I see is bewilderment.

"I've never liked coffee because of the bitter taste," Tilly chimes in. "All the coffee Amity ships is the same. We only have one greenhouse for the coffee trees and they're all the same."

A nagging feeling in the back of my head grows bigger by the second. It's the feeling of two pieces of information about to collide.

"You're sure someone hasn't prepared yours with sweetener while you lived in Erudite?" Tilly asks, and my brain stutters.

"My mom always made my coffee-"

Wham. Two thoughts collide and I nearly see stars. _You can't have any more! There is no more!_ I remember dream-Asta screaming at me.

" _You don't have to know in order for it to affect you_ ," I whisper to myself. The words are eerie even as I speak them.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," Tilly says.

"I said that she must have added something to it," I tell Tilly.

The question is; what?

* * *

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